


2941 Acorn Lane

by Bofursunboundbraids



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: 1958, Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Coming Out, Explicit Language, French Kissing, Frottage, Greasers, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Masturbation in Shower, Mention Of Homophobia, Smoking, Underage Drinking, Victim Blaming, anti-semitic language, cross-dressing, dying parent, greaser!AU, mention of bullying, mention of death in the family, teenage drunkeness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:47:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 144,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3581676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bofursunboundbraids/pseuds/Bofursunboundbraids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a story of boy meets boy in 1950's America - a time when Eisenhower was president and Elvis was king.</p><p>Bilbo Baggins is a junior at Pasadena High School, but it's a new school for him and he's 400 miles from home. Deciding to focus on school and count down the days until graduation, he tries not to worry too much about fitting in. And dating is certainly out of the question. </p><p>Thorin Durin is a greaser who doesn't care for much outside of fast bikes and the occasional rumble, but that's until he meets a square from San Francisco and finds he can't look away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never expected this. All I did was reblog a [great piece of Bagginshield fanart](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/post/112920381847/iriarty-anon-requested-more-hobbit-greaser-au). The artist very graciously reblogged my tags and added "someone write this". I had fully planned on starting the sequel to _These Precious Things_ , but the seed had been planted! And the story started falling out of my head. I was just going to write the scene depicted in the art, but it soon outgrew that and now it's looking at me like a full-grown, full-fledged modern!Au fic. Just in case you're curious, the scene in question will occur in chapter three.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!

**November 8,1958**

_When I want you in my arms_  
_When I want you and all your charms_  
_Whenever I want you_  
_All I have to do is dream_  
_Dream, dream, dream_

Dís pressed her face up against the window, peering hard to get a glance at the house before her breath fogged up the glass.

"Wow," she said, appropriately impressed, "nice shack."

Thorin leaned across the front seat to get a look. What he could see of the house, behind the ornate cast-iron gate, overgrown hedge, and strategically placed Willow trees, was really nice. This was no shack. He pulled the scrap of paper Bilbo had written his address down on from his pocket to make sure this was the right place. 2941 Acorn Lane. An electric light on the gate pillar illuminated a plaque bearing that number. This was it.

"So what now? You gonna honk?" Dís asked as the Everly Brothers crooned about their dream girls.

"No...going up to the door." A weird fluttering erupted in Thorin's stomach and he suddenly wished he didn't have to get out of the car. 

"Say 'hi' to Jeeves for me, will ya?" Dís joked, not helping her brother's new and annoying case of nerves. Taking a deep breath, he shoved the paper back in his pocket and opened the car door.

"Don't touch anything." Thorin warned before getting out. He heard his sister's bubble gum snap loudly. "Brat," he muttered under his breath. If any of that sticky crap ended up on the upholstery it would certainly be the last time Balin let him borrow the car.

The twilight sky held only the faintest light from the setting sun. The shadows deepened, and the breeze cooled from that day's high of 68°F; just another beautiful day in Southern California. Even so, Thorin was glad of the blue zippered jacket he wore over his standard white t-shirt. As he got close to the gate, he self-consciously tugged the zipper up. On the gate pillar, just below the address plaque, was the call button, right where Bilbo had told him it would be. He pressed it, quickly, and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. As he waited for the gate to open, he peered through it into the dimly lit courtyard. It was elegant in its overgrown way, paved in brick and lined with large terra cotta flower pots. Warm light glowed from the windows on the bottom floor and Thorin tried to get a look inside. Suddenly there was movement on the other side of the blue front door, just seconds before it swung open. Bilbo stood there, his hand on the door knob as he spoke to someone just out of sight. And just as quickly, he shut the door behind him and all but ran to the gate. 

"Hi!" he called, "sorry to keep you waiting. My grandma..."

"Hey," Thorin said, and Bilbo froze. Thorin could see the blush on his friend's cheeks despite the gloom of twilight. Bilbo unlocked the gate, slid past it, and relocked. He dropped the key into his trousers pocket, his eyes never straying from Thorin's.

"Hey." Bilbo mimicked, a huge grin on his face. He stood there in a button down shirt and sweater vest, a corduroy jacket, and pressed trousers, pennies in his loafers...looking every bit the egg-head he was. Thorin gave him one of his crooked smiles.

"Let's get goin', huh?"

Bilbo nodded, curls bouncing on his forehead above his tortoise shell glasses. "Sure," he answered, bright and happy, displaying the true, unguarded self that Thorin was coming to know. That flutter in his stomach calmed, leaving a warmth in its wake.

When he got to the car, Thorin knocked on the passenger side window. "Open up," he said to the dark figure inside. The door was pushed open and Bilbo recognized the face, despite a good half of it being obscured by a large pink bubble; Thorin's 14 year-old kid sister, Dís. She was a freshman at Pasadena High and Bilbo had seen her and her boisterous group of friends on campus. The bubble popped.

"Ignore the brat," Thorin suggested with a wink as he pulled the driver side door open.

"Shut up, jerk!" Dís complained as she scooted over the Chevy Bel Air's wide bench seat to give Bilbo space to get in. Thorin slid in behind the wheel and pulled the heavy car door shut.

"Nice, Dís. Nice manners in front of strangers." 

"Look who's talking! Besides, Bilbo's not a stranger." Dís turned to the boy next to her, who was digging in the cracks of the seat for the wayward seatbelt. "I've seen you before. You have Mr. Jackson third period when I have Mrs. Lee, next door." 

Bilbo looked up from his search, "You have Lee for English?"

"Yeah," Dís answered as she began a search for a radio station that wasn't playing advertisements.

"I didn't think she taught freshman courses."

"She doesn't," Thorin butted in, "Tinker Bell here is a brainiac like you... _ooooh_!...do that one more time, brat, and I'm taking you home." He warned, rubbing his arm where his sister had slugged him and catching Bilbo's glance over the top of her bowed head. The boy was smiling at him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in an effort to keep from laughing. Even with only the light from the nearby streetlamp shining down on the car, Thorin could see the green sparks in Bilbo's eyes. He felt a hot burst of adrenaline shoot through his veins. Turning the key in the ignition, he pressed down on the gas pedal, loudly revving the Chevy's V8 "Turbo Fire" engine. Throwing Bilbo a sidewise glance, like the ones his idol James Dean had been known for, he released the emergency brake.

"Let's see what Detroit's finest can do." 

And with the '57 Chevy in gear and the engine rumbling like a hungry beast, Thorin peeled out from the curb to an exhilarated "WOOP!" from his sister, who had been flung back against the seat. Bilbo, having just located and clicked his seatbelt in place, reached for the " _Oh Shit_!" handle above the door and held on tight. He couldn't help the grin that stretched from ear to ear.

  
_Warden threw a party in the county jail_

Elvis could be heard above the roar of the engine. "ELVIS!" Dís screamed in the primitive tones of the wild teeny bopper. Bilbo laughed. He'd never before felt such a thrill of excitement as he did in that moment.

_The prison band was there and they began to wail_  
_The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing._  
_You should've heard those knocked out jailbirds sing._  
_Let's rock, everybody, let's rock._  
_Everybody in the whole cell block_  
_was dancin' to the Jailhouse Rock._

The lights of Southern California lay strung out before them like pixie dust as they raced to the Pasadena Freeway.

++++++++

A Saturday night spent at the drive-in was one of the rituals of America's youth. There could be found roving throngs of teenagers, boys and girls; talking, laughing, fighting, and kissing amongst rows and rows of steel and chrome behemoths. That particular Saturday evening, however, was special. For one night only, the Highland Drive-In was showing a double bill of **_Jailhouse Rock_** and **_Rebel Without a Cause_**. Dís had laid the heavy persuasion on her brother to convince him to take her to see her idol Elvis Presley ("Gee whiz, Thorin, he's just the **MOST**!") on the big screen. Thorin had let his sis sweat it out, but he'd always intended to take her...it wasn't everyday he got to see the one and only Mr. James Dean in one of the few movies the actor had made during a brilliant, but painfully brief career. This had also been an opportunity to make good on the promise he had made Bilbo, just that past weekend, of catching a movie with him.

Thorin had been watching the younger boy drink a coke as they sat on the Durin family's well-worn Davenport. As Bilbo had talked about his old school up in San Francisco, Thorin had blurted that he was taking his sister to see a couple of flicks at the drive-in and if you're not busy...

Bilbo had laughed, "Yeah...busy watching the paint dry in my grandma's living room". Although, he did admit, it would mean missing Perry Mason.

"Aww, that show's so predictable...Mason always wins." Thorin couldn't help but grin as Bilbo launched into a thorough defense of the show's "formulaic format, that's true, but it's the way Perry gets the guilty one to confess despite themselves...that's what I enjoy the most." 

"O.K., so I guess an hour with Perry Mason beats getting out of your grandma's hair for a night." 

"What? No, not at all...I'd love to go! I haven't been to a drive-in here yet. Besides, it gets me out of watching Lawrence Welk."

Thorin looked utterly horrified, "Don't tell me you actually watch that!"

"I live with my grandmother, if you recall." Bilbo laid on the snark.

"What, does she force you or something? Refuse to bake you cookies?" Thorin could not conceive of anyone under the age of 80 actually being able to stomach the popular German-American bandleader and his so-called " _champagne music_ ".

"No. It's just...I don't know...the nice thing to do. She appreciates the company. And considering all she's done for me and my mom...besides it's not all that bad." Bilbo worried a spot on his khaki trousers with his fingernail.

"You're kidding." Thorin scoffed.

"Alright, it's pretty bad," Bilbo shrugged, "Anyway, it's not like I have anything else to do."

"Well, you do this Saturday night. I'll pick you up at 6."

Bilbo couldn't help the blush and burst of excited nerves and he swallowed his soda carefully so as not to choke on the fizz. "O...o.k....that sounds great. I live up..."

"In the hills. Yeah, I've heard."

"Oh, that's right...well...here," Bilbo pulled a pen and a small notepad out of his satchel. In a quick, neat hand he wrote down his address and phone number. "I added that, just in case you need to cancel or...anything."

"I think Dís would have my head on a plate if I cancelled on her." Thorin watched Bilbo giggle at this. The kid had developed a bit of a reputation, in the short time he'd been at Pasadena High, as a bit of a stiff, but Thorin was learning there was more to him than penny loafers with white socks and perfect attendance.

Bilbo set his empty bottle down on the coffee table next to a stack of LIFE magazines, "Your sister sounds positively fearsome." 

"She's a little beast."

"I'm sure she's great," Bilbo smiled, brightly, up at Thorin, who couldn't help grinning like a goof. And there it was! That little tug that Thorin had begun to feel, deep within himself. He'd been feeling it for weeks now. When it had first started, he wasn't entirely sure, but he did know that, whatever it was, tucked away in his gut, it was connected to his friend...his dear, true friend...like an invisible tie that connected them...would always connect them.

The clock on the mantel chimed five times.

"Well," Bilbo quickly looked away, his voice overly loud and edged with nerves, "it's getting late. I should probably go home." 

Thorin hoped to God he could play it cool, "Aww, shit...I need to pick Dís up from cheerleading practice. I can give you a ride to the bus."

Bilbo shoved his overfull three-ring binder back into his satchel and fastened the well-worn leather straps. He didn't speak for a moment, but then he nodded, "Sure. Thank you...That would be great. And...I promise not to hold on quite so tight this time." The trip on the back of Thorin's motorcycle, from school to the small but comfortable California-style bungalow on the strictly working class side of town, had been Bilbo's first time on a bike and he had found it absolutely terrifying. And throughly exhilarating. Thorin had teased him about the death grip with which Bilbo had held on, arms like steel bands around his waist. 

"Aww, don't worry about that." Thorin stood up and shrugged into his leather jacket. "You know I have to give the rookie a hard time."

"Rookie?"

"Yeah...with motorcycles and all. I'll go slower this time."

Bilbo considered the tips of his loafers before looking up at Thorin, "You don't have to do that...go slower, I mean."

And Thorin had wondered if he did know what the boy meant.

That had been Wednesday, and the following three days had passed in a blink that seemed to take forever, but Saturday night finally came. And there they were, cruising east on the 210, in a tricked out powder blue '57 Chevy with 185 horses under the hood. The toughest boy in school was behind the wheel while his little sister worked the radio knobs mercilessly searching for Elvis, or at least Buddy Holly or Chuck Berry. And a boy, far from home, watched it all, wondering if he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Pat Boone? No one likes Pat Boone! Only squares listen to Pat Boone!" Dís proclaimed as she swept the radio dial away from the sound of the saccharine-sweet singer with the squeaky-clean image that parents loved. That was before being informed by Bilbo that he, in fact, liked Pat Boone. Dís immediately scooted herself closer to her brother as if being a Pat Boone fan was contagious. Thorin did nothing to help by giving away Bilbo's shameful Lawrence Welk secret. 

"Fine, two against one, I see how it is." Bilbo had whined, but a shared smile let both boys know that the jest was understood to be all in the spirit of fun.

The Highland Drive-In was one of the largest in Southern California. Boasting a marquee of sparkling neon, it called the kids from far and wide to its nearly 20 acres of stepped, rocky asphalt and a snack bar that offered everything from popcorn and soda, to pizza and tacos. As soon as they passed through the admission gate, Dís was on the edge of the seat quickly scanning the crowd to see if she could spot any of her friends (" _The Gaggle_ " as Thorin had not so affectionately dubbed them). Thorin skillfully maneuvered the Bel Air through the ebb and flowing streams of kids, until he found a spot that would do...not too close to the snack bar...not too far from the screen. He, too, had looked for familiar faces. Sure, there were kids from Pasadena High there, but none from his particular circle. Most of them had headed off to participate in a gathering of motorcycle "clubs" ( "a fancy word for gangs", the squares would always gripe) up in the Santa Monica Hills. As soon as the emergency brake was set, Dís was chomping at the bit to get out of the car, reminding her brother that "Mama said I could have a hot dog AND popcorn AND a coke." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...hold your horses. Bilbo, you coming along?"

Bilbo, too, had scanned the faces of the other kids there. And he, too, had seen some familiar ones, but none of the ones he would rather avoid. Hopefully the evening would continue to be as fun as it had been so far. He nodded, excited to get out amongst the other young people and maybe even feel like he belonged there with them. 

"Yes!" He pushed on the heavy passenger-side door and got out, Dís spilling out after him. They had only taken a couple of steps away from the car, when shrill, piercing voices screamed "DÍS!!!" at the top of their collective lungs. Bilbo had to jump out of the way to avoid getting bowled over by five girls; red bandanas tied around their heads, jeans hems rolled up, and scuffed up saddle oxfords kicking up gravel dust. Dís was wearing her favorite army surplus shirt as a jacket and around her neck a reproduction of Elvis' very own dog tag, worn in honor of the hillbilly from Tupelo, Mississippi who was currently serving his country in the U.S. Army. Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at the spectacle of the six squealing girls. Thorin, who was leaning over the roof of the car, rolled his eyes at him. 

"Hey brat, I'm not waiting for you!" Thorin sassed his sister. Ignoring her rude comeback, he gave Bilbo one of those cheeky grins that caused the boy's heart to skip a beat. "Come on," he said, nodding his head towards the snack bar, '"let's get out of here before our ears start to bleed."

"So that's the infamous Gaggle." Bilbo huffed as he worked to keep up with Thorin's long-legged stride.

Thorin stopped and looked back to see Dís running to catch up. He cupped his hand by his mouth and hollered, "The Gaggle is the real scourge of PHS!" 

Bilbo bit back a chuckle at the sight of a perturbed Dís stomping up to her brother, "HA!" she squawked, "That's rich, considering the hoodlums you hang out with."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Thorin winked at Bilbo and continued the walk to the snack bar, "They're all such upstanding young men."

Bilbo spent the rest of the walk up listening to Dís inform her brother that she would be watching _**Jailhouse Rock**_ (the first movie on the bill) with the girls, in Teresa's sister's car, a tank of a convertible '49 Ford. Thorin expressed his immense delight, stating that now Bilbo would be able to get through the night with his eardrums intact. 

And he also took a look about. Teenagers were positively everywhere; guys and girls, in cars, spilling out of cars while about a dozen different songs, everything from Rosemary Clooney to the King of Rock-n-Roll himself, blared from dozens of car radios. He saw groups of girls that would give The Gaggle a run for their money. He spotted couples who weren't wasting any time and already necking vigorously behind rapidly fogging up windows. And through it all Thorin strode with a casual grace that Bilbo envied. Thorin walked through the crowd as if he owned the place, without a care for what people might think. And what could these kids be thinking? That one of the coolest, toughest, most handsome boys in Pasadena was hanging out with...him. What was it that Azog kid had called him, not long after the school year began? "Faggy Fruit Fairy"? He tried to repress the ever threatening self-consciousness. Someone nearby yelled out Thorin's name. Bilbo's head spun to make-out the guy Thorin was waving to. 

"That's Lloyd Hampton." Thorin answered Bilbo's silent question, "He works out at the Riverside Raceway. Has the sweetest baby-blue Triumph Thunderbird...which," he looked down at Bilbo, who stood at his side, listening intently, "means nothing to you."

"I don't know a Triumph from a...uh...another type of motorcycle, but I wouldn't mind learning." 

Thorin couldn't help smiling at the boy in the green sweater vest and the pressed khakis. "Yeah? I think we can work something out. Gonna make a greaser out of you yet."

And Bilbo forgot all about things like bullies and remembered that tonight was going to be great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song credits:  
>  ** _All I Have to Do Is Dream_**  
>  written by Felice and Boudleaux Bryant, 1958
> 
> **_Jailhouse Rock_**  
>  written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, 1957
> 
> I had initially chosen 1953 as the year this story unfolds, but cursory research made 1958 look more attractive. I chose Pasadena mostly because it's one of my favorite places in Southern California; not too close to the coast, and not too far inland. I haven't spent a whole lot of time in Pasadena (When I was really little I visited my garandparents in Brentwood every summer. I also lived in Santa Monica for a short time when I was young and my mom lived in Upland/Montclair for a bit) but it's one of those places that, if I had to live in SoCal, I'd live there. Pasadena High School is a real school and existed in 1958, so that was an easy choice. If anyone reading this lives in Pasadena and goes to PHS or has parents/grandparents that were students at PHS in the fifties...I AM ALL EARS! 
> 
> Once I decided on the car, everything else fell into place. The classic '57 Chevy Bel Air...that thing was made for cruising/making-out in! Bilbo's digging for the seatbelts shows what a square he is because seat belt laws in California didn't happen until 1986. I remember the pre-law days...we never wore them. And the Chevy would only have lap belts anyway.
> 
> In 1958, t.v. consisted of the networks and maybe a local or two, so discovering what was on t.v. that particular Saturday night is really easy. I am a HUGE Perry Mason fan...I LOVE PERRY!!! And if you spend any time watching it, you will come to understand that it is also one of the gayest shows EVER. And this has nothing to do with the fact that the show's star, Raymond Burr, was gay. 
> 
> My paternal grandmother would watch Lawrence Welk. Dear sweet...Thorin's right...it's cringey in a creepy Stepford Wives kind of way. Watch the singing children and they will consume your soul. I have plans for a scene that will involve the 1958 Christmas Special. I got through about 10 minutes of it on Youtube. Deeply disturbing stuff.
> 
> The Highland Drive-In is completely fictional. I'm modeling it after my memories of the drive-ins my family visited when I was little, living in Hawaii, especially the Kahala Drive-In and the Kailua Drive-In. 
> 
> The next chapter is well underway. Homework includes watching Jailhouse Rock and Rebel Without a Cause. I am almost as huge a fan of Elvis as Dis is (she is DEVOTED!). If you haven't explored the vocal stylings of Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley, I highly recommend it. Start at the beginning and work your way up. Even his later stuff (Burning Love, Kentucky Rain) is wonderful. My personal favorite movie is Follow That Star...he is ADORABLE in it. Also partial to Blue Hawaii, King Creole, and Flaming Star (this one is his best...it's a western, he's half indian, he's beautful, it's sad.). Avoid the later ones at all cost. Paradise Hawaiian Style is PAINFUL! 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com)!! Come talk to me about Bagginshield, Elvis, the fifties, anything!!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a snack bar is more than just a snack bar and it is learned that there are benefits to having friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank everyone who read the first chapter, commented, gave kudos, and subscribed!! This fic has pretty much taken over my life (well, not completely but pretty damn well near) and it makes me crazy happy to know people are enjoying it. This chapter is a smidge shorter than I had originally intended, but when the ending presented itself I decided to go with it (and, if I continued to where I had planned, I think it would've been too long, so there's that). So, having said that, the scene that describes the event that takes place in the [Greaser!AU fanart](http://iriarty.tumblr.com/post/112914930328/anon-requested-more-hobbit-greaser-au-making-out) that inspired this whole thing won't happen until chapter 4. 
> 
> THERE'S FANART!!! The wonderful and talented [Isyadelee](http://isyadelee.tumblr.com/) illustrated a [scene from this chapter](http://isyadelee.tumblr.com/post/124073719915/i-started-reading-the-completely-awesome-2941) and it is the best thing ever!

The "Snack Palace" did everything in its power to live up to its name. A simple building of cinder blocks and mortar, it was painted to look like a medieval castle, complete with ply-wood crenellation along the edge of the roof and a well-lit sign of Old English lettering and cartoon knights jousting hot dogs on horseback. Bilbo thought that perhaps "Palace" wasn't a strong enough word. This was the snack bar equivalent of the Great Pyramid or the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. Stretched out before him was a veritable mile of movie snack options, all dolled up with neon on the walls and black and white tiles on the floor. In some distant corner a wurlitzer blared "Tequila". He grabbed a tray and followed Thorin with Dís leading the way. 

"Can I have a cheeseburger instead of a hot dog? I forgot they have cheeseburgers! Please!" Dis bounced on her toes, her hand tugging at the sleeve of her brother's jacket. 

Thorin nodded, grabbing two wrapped burgers from the heated self-serve rack.

"And fries?" 

Thorin gave her his _don't-push-it_ look "It's either fries or popcorn, not both."

Dís attempted a glare challenge but decided this was one she wouldn't win, instead going with a mini pout-stomp. "Fine."

"So, which is it?"

"Fries...I'll mooch popcorn off of someone else."

Thorin added two containers of french fries to the tray. "Wise words, little girl."

She smiled up at her brother, proudly, "Thank you!"

Thorin heard Bilbo giggle softly. He was becoming quite attached to that sound. He looked over at the boy, who had yet to put anything on his tray.

"She's not always like this, I swear." He said, suddenly feeling like he needed to apologize for his sister's behavior.

Bilbo looked skeptical, "I'm having a hard time believing that."

"Damn...can't blame a guy for trying, can you?"

Bilbo grabbed the largest bucket of popcorn and asked the smiling woman behind the counter, who wore a paper crown over her hair-net, for extra butter. "What's the problem?" he looked past Thorin to see Dís dancing in line and trying to sneak a box of Jujyfruits onto the tray. "She's having fun."

Thorin caught his sister's sly move and quickly returned the candy box as soon as she looked the other way. "She can be a bit too much sometimes." 

"Oh, I don't think so." Bilbo answered before asking the soda fountain girl for a large strawberry soda.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Bilbo looked up at Thorin, no anger on his face, just curiosity. Thorin suddenly felt uncomfortably large next to him. He shrugged and shook his head.

"Nothing...it's just...you just go with things. Whatever happens...doesn't seem to phase you."

Bilbo thanked the girl as he took the enormous soda cup from her. He chuckled, "Wow, I'm a better actor than I knew! No...It's just easier, you know, to let things slide off my back. I try to only get worked up over things that matter."

 _Things that matter_. Thorin remembered what Bilbo had told him of why they had left San Francisco, he and his mom...why they lived with his grandmother. He watched the boy grab a handful of candy boxes and drop them on his tray. If only everyone else at school understood just how brave Bilbo was...

"Hey, Earth to Thorin, it's our turn to pay!" Dís stood in front of the cashier, giving the girl a sympathetic shake of her head before spotting an old junior high friend and slipping off to say "hi!".

"Oh, hey, sorry about that," Thorin slid his tray over so the cashier could ring everything up. He watched his sister and her friend, whose parents had decided to send to a private girl's high school in Glendale, gab excitedly while he continued to muse about what Bilbo must be going through at home.

"That'll be $1.25" The cashier chirped.

Thorin nodded a somewhat distracted acknowledgment and pulled a dollar bill out of his jacket pocket. He checked his other pocket for the rest and found nothing. He smiled awkwardly at the waiting cashier, feeling the weight of the line backing up behind him. He stuck his hand into his jeans pocket. Both pockets. Nothing.

Bilbo was enjoying himself immensely, even when the conversation sometimes bordered onto uncomfortable territory. That was the thing with Thorin, though. For some reason, unknown to him no matter how much time he spent thinking about it, he felt at ease in the older boy's company, like he could be himself without fear of being made fun of or talked about behind his back. He knew Thorin would never do that. He watched him check his pockets for change, but had to quickly look away, his cheeks burning when Thorin shoved his hand deep into the front pockets of his jeans. The pockets proved to be empty.

"What do you need?" Bilbo asked, reaching into his pocket for his wallet.

Thorin shook his head, "Nothing...Dís! Get over here!"  
"No, really, what do you need...a quarter? I've got one right here." Bilbo quickly fished a quarter out of the small coin compartment in his wallet and held it out.

Thorin ignored him, "Dís...I need a quarter. Hand it over."

Dis said good-bye to her friend and ran over to her brother. "Why? Didn't mama give you money?"

"She didn't give me enough."

"Why didn't you bring any of your own?" 

Thorin had no time for this. "Dammit, Dís..." 

"Fine!" Dís huffed once before digging a quarter out of her pocket. She slapped it down on the counter. "You owe me."

"For what? That's your food too."

"That's my babysitting money."

"Sue me," he muttered, handing the quarter to the cashier. He quickly grabbed the box of food and made his way to the exit; Dís at his heels, tossing glances back at Bilbo.

"What about Bilbo?" Bilbo could hear Dís ask her brother, but there was no answer. He stood before the cashier, his heart sinking into his stomach. As soon as he had paid and pocketed his change, he quickly walked out, the frenetic energy of Jerry Lee Lewis belting out " _Goodness Gracious GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!_ " rubbing at his unraveling nerves. When he got outside he took a deep breath before spotting Thorin and Dís, standing under one of the tall lampposts, waiting for him. 

"Is everything o.k.?" Bilbo asked. Thorin nodded with a somewhat forced nonchalance. 

"Sure, it was just getting a bit thick in there. Come on, this thing should be starting soon."

On the way back to the car, Bilbo didn't feel the need to keep up with Thorin and he doubted he would've been able to manage it even if he tried. He let the older boy stalk off in front of him, Dís trailing a step or three behind her brother. And he wondered if that was it for the night as far as the good times were concerned. It had been going so well.

"Brat, your flock is waiting for you." Thorin grumbled, "And tell Campos if I see her leaning against the car again..."

"Geez, will you relax? What is your problem?" Dís waved at her friends, who were milling about the Bel Air, and looked back at Bilbo who was still a couple of rows behind. She stopped. "I think you've forgotten someone, Jerk."

Thorin stopped and slowly turned around. He knew he was acting like an ass, complete with large nose and annoying bray. Bilbo didn't deserve this sudden display of cold shoulder. He had only tried to help. Thorin had asked him out...

( _Asked him out? Is that what this is?_ )

His mind went blank and he watched his sister fall in step next to Bilbo. He could hear her apologizing for his being rude and an over-all jerk, but he's really not all that bad when you get to know him...hey, are those Jujyfruits?

Bilbo laughed, "Yeah, take them. I got them for you. Don't tell your brother," he looked directly at Thorin, "it'll be our little secret."

Dís picked up the brightly colored box, a huge grin on her face. "Thank you! You know what? You're alright. I don't know what you did to get saddled with a clod like my brother, but I'm glad you did."

Thorin watched the exchange, embarrassed that Bilbo was able to make his sister happy with a box of candy. He would suck it up and apologize once Dís took off with her friends, though he wasn't sure he could offer an explanation for why he had acted the way he had, at least not one that made any sense. He waited for them to catch up, giving Bilbo a sheepish smile. The boy looked at him as if he were searching for answers somewhere on his face. "Sorry," was all Thorin was able to cough up.

"S'o.k." Was all Bilbo offered in return. 

The Gaggle was thrilled to have their missing gosling back. Dís immediately joined in with their excited squawking; the countdown to Elvis was getting dangerously close to zero hour.

"Hey Thorin," Theresa Campos, one of Dís' oldest friends, leaned seductively against the driver's side door, "this tank is solid gonesville." She bit her lip and twirled a lock of her thick, mahogany hair around her finger. 

"It's also not mine. Can you please?" Thorin stood, looking down at the girl whom he'd known since she and Dís had been in kindergarten together. It took Teresa a good second to realize that this was not the night for a conquest. 

"Hey Durin, why's your brother such a pill?" 

Dís came around the car to fetch her share of the Snack Palace food. "He was born that way." She waited as Thorin opened the car door and emptied the box of his burger and fries and handed the rest to her. "You need to be nicer to people," she said to him, her voice barely above a whisper, "sometimes all they're trying to do is help."

Thorin nodded, "Yeah. I know. Hey...have fun o.k.?"

Dís smiled up at the big brother she adored, "You too."

"Dís! Let's scram already, the lights are going off!" The pretty blonde, Peggy Sue, hollered.

Bilbo watched Dís skip-run to catch up with her friends, returning a wave she tossed him as she passed by. Teresa gave him a smile and he heard her ask Dís, "who's your brother's friend? He's kinda cute." Dis nodded, looking back at him, "He's a real applejack." Anything else that was said was drowned out by the noise of the crowd, but by then Thorin had unlocked the passenger side door and Bilbo slid in, just as the first movie preview started.

Thorin was quiet as he got himself situated, his burger and fries sitting on a pile of napkins on the seat next to him. Bilbo set his box down and rolled down the window to grab the speaker. Carefully he rolled the window back up, catching the speaker just so between the window and the top of the door. He turned the knob in time to hear Alfred Hitchcock wax morbidly about his up-coming thriller. 

"Is that good?" He asked. Thorin had just taken a bite of his burger. "Hmmm?" He mumbled, his mouth full.

"Sorry...I meant the sound. Is it loud enough?" 

Thorin swallowed, nodding, "Yeah, that's good."

Bilbo leaned back on the seat and pulled his popcorn box onto his lap. They both ate quietly through the clip for the newest animated film from Walt Disney's studio. The third one was for Billy Wilder's latest starring Marilyn Monroe. 

"She's really something," Bilbo said, glancing over at Thorin and wondering if silence was going to be _de rigueur_ for the rest of the evening. Thorin's eyes met his, cautiously looking. 

"Yeah..Bilbo, I..." Thorin felt as small and at a loss for anything even remotely intelligent to say as he had ever felt before. He figured, then, that he should just start out small and see what happened. "I'm sorry. For that, back there."

"I said it was o.k." Bilbo felt sorry for the older boy next to him. For all that he appeared and carried himself like a man, he really was, still, just a boy.

"But it's not. That's the thing. And I really want it to go back to being o.k." 

Bilbo took a napkin and wiped the butter from his fingers. "You know...sometimes...people do things...to be nice. Just because...they're friends...and they want to help, because that's what they do. Friends, I mean. It's like asking the new guy to go to the movies...just to get him out of the house. Which was a really nice thing to do." 

Thorin sat there and studied Bilbo's face; the curls and the glasses, the pert, upturned nose and the soft bow of his lips, all shiny with butter. A tiny bit of popcorn was stuck, just to the left of the boy's mouth. 

"You got something..." Thorin reached out and brushed it away, his fingers barely grazing the surface of Bilbo's skin. 

"Oh, do I?" Bilbo blushed, the places where Thorin touched burning, and he immediately started wiping at his face for lingering debris. 

Thorin smiled as Bilbo brushed popcorn from his sweater vest and the tension he'd been hauling since the incident in the Snack Palace fell away. Suddenly he wanted to tell Bilbo that his asking him to go with them, to the movies, was more than his just being nice to the new kid. He wanted to tell him that he had come to really like him, liked having him around, spending time with him. Bilbo should be out having a good time, not stuck at home, watching Lawrence Welk with his grandmother, his mom in the back bedroom, deep in her morphine-induced sleep. 

"Here...this is for you." Bilbo held out a pink and black box. "It's a thank you for asking me to come along." It was a box of Good and Plenty...bits of candy coated black licorice. He had been paying attention.

Thorin took the candy, unable to look Bilbo in the face "Wow...you really know how to make a guy feel like a first-class asshole." He gently shook the box, the candy rattling around.

Bilbo slumped down in his seat, "Look, I never meant..."

"Hey!" Thorin reached out and laid his hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Thank you! Really! For everything...and Dís too...that probably made her night. It's not every day a cute boy buys her candy." 

Bilbo blushed beet red, with the weight of Thorin's hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy. He ran a finger over the upholstery stitching on the car seat. "At least one who isn't her brother." he said, just loud enough for Thorin to hear. 

Thorin suddenly wasn't quite sure of what to do with himself. His hand on Bilbo's shoulder wanted to stay where it was, wanted to feel the solidness of the boy beneath it and did not want to leave. He watched Bilbo's eyes flitter between his own and the seat stitching, lower lip caught fast between teeth. And his heart trilled when Bilbo placed a hand, so much smaller and softer, on top of his and squeezed. 

A chorus of shrieks and squeals broke out over the drive-in lot. 

The boys quickly let go of one another and looked at the screen. The movie was starting. 

"I suppose this is what we came here for." Bilbo said before taking a long sip of strawberry soda. 

"Yup," Thorin tore back the lid on his Good and Plenties and poured out a small handful of the pink and white candies. He popped them in his mouth and chewed, the candies crunching loudly in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Snack Palace is my homage to the very Southern Californian tradition of everything as entertainment. The idea that the drive-in theater snack bar is decorated as a Medieval castle comes from the fact that Disneyland, probably the most influential theme/amusement park ever, opened in Anaheim, California in 1955 (which, if there's no traffic. is only about a 45 minute drive from Pasadena... _if_ there's no traffic) and Sleeping Beauty's castle was [featured in the opening and closing credits](http://youtu.be/4x3aLhZ5Uqk) of the weekly show, "Walt Disney Presents", which ran from 1958 to 1961. 
> 
> Bilbo's thinking the Snack Palace is up there with the [Great Pyramid of Giza](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pyramid_of_Giza) and the [Hanging Gardens of Babylon](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hanging_Gardens_of_Babylon) is just more proof of his total egg head-dom, because he knows they are two of the [Seven Wonders of the Ancient World](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seven_Wonders_of_the_Ancient_World). And he is _seriously_ impressed.
> 
> The movie previews that play that night, before ["Jailhouse Rock"](https://youtu.be/jewUhkkGZf0) are ["North By Northwest"](https://youtu.be/HRfmTpmIUwo), ["Sleeping Beauty"](https://youtu.be/3xpKSGWiG6k), and ["Some Like It Hot"](https://youtu.be/rI_lUHOCcbc) (which is one of my all-time favorites...Marilyn was _something_ ).
> 
> Jujyfruits and Good and Plenty were popular candies in the fifties. And, just in case you're curious, the candy Bilbo got for himself is Bit o' Honey.
> 
>  **Song Credit** :  
>  _ **Great Balls of Fire** ___  
> written by Otis Blackwell and Jack Hammer, 1957
> 
> The song **_Tequila_** is used in one of the more memorable [scenes](https://youtu.be/BodXwAYeTfM) from the movie _**Pee Wee's Big Adventure**_ (1985). This film was Tim Burton's directorial debut and features Danny Elfman's first film score (both are something like gods to me so _yeah_ ).
> 
> I am on [tumblr](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/). I'm planning on making a separate blog for this fic, where I'll post pictures and such, so look out for that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Gaggle comes to a decision! Thorin sings! Bilbo pushes back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been vacillating between leaving the rating as it is and bumping it up to M for language and situation, but I've decided to leave it at T (for now, at least). So, having said that, I just want to give a heads up...I have added Bullying and homophobic slurs to the tags. I also introduce the villains, but it's not the first time Bilbo and Thorin have had a run-in with them. 6 weeks earlier, an encounter with these jerks is what lead to our heroes meeting (and I will be going back to the beginning in chapter 5).
> 
> Italicized quotes are direct from the film **Jailhouse Rock** , screenplay by Guy Trosper (1957)

More than a few pairs of ears were left ringing. 

Dís had started the din of ecstatic girl-screaming, with the rest of the Gaggle quickly jumping in. And, like a tornado it picked up other voices, from other girls, all across the drive-in, until it had become a hormone-fueled hurricane of enthusiasm.

**_ELVIS!!!_ **

Breathless, and with a throat good and raw, Dís took a soothing sip of root beer and unwrapped her cheeseburger. She had been looking forward to seeing **Jailhouse Rock** on a movie screen ever since it had been released a year ago. She nearly died when her best friend Teresa (everyone just called her T.C.) had told her about this showing exactly one week and 2 days before. Elvis was her favorite singer, actor, American, and human being and here he was, in crystal clear black and white, on a 65 foot screen. She sat in the front seat, comfortable between T.C. and the passenger side door, the speaker only inches away from her ear.

"Hey Double D, your brother's ride is real boss." Val said before shoving a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

"It's not his car," Dís answered, her eyes never straying from the screen.

"Yeah? Who'd he roll to get it?" Mal asked, her hand battling her best friend Val's for domination of the popcorn.

"It belongs to our cousin. Balin lets him borrow it sometimes." 

Peggy Sue leaned over the back seat and yelled in Dís' ear, "Is he single?"

"Oww!" Dís rubber at her ear, "Geez, Peggy...try and control it, will ya? And who? Who's single?"

"This well-equipped cousin of yours."

Dís nodded, "Yeah, he's single. He's a lawyer...lives in Silver Lake," she turned around to face her nosey friend, "but don't get any bright ideas. He doesn't have time for a child like you."

Peggy Sue threw herself back against the seat and made a face, "Well la-de-dah! Who wants some stuffy old lawyer anyway." For a whole few seconds the girls were quiet. But then...

"Who's that kid with Thorin?" Peggy Sue was anything if not determined when it came to new prospects.

"His name's Bilbo. He's in glee," Mal answered. She was also a member of the glee club.

"He is?" Dís asked.

"Mmm hmm." Mal hummed, her mouth full of a slurry of popcorn and coke.

"You didn't know that?" T.C. asked her best friend.

"No, I only met him tonight." Dís bit into one of her french fries, "Ewww...my fries are cold."

Peggy Sue was back in Dís' ear, "Can I have them?"

"No! O.k...you can have one." 

"What's your brother doing hanging with a square like that?" Val asked.

Dís shrugged, "I don't know...I think Bilbo helps him out with his english homework. Or something."

"O.k...first...your brother has a tutor? And "b"...he hangs out with him?" T.C. looked at her friend as if she had sprouted a new head or five. 

"To answer you in order...maybe, I guess and...yeah. He's a real nice guy. You should try knowing a person first." Dís bit into a cold fry hoping to bring this line of conversation to a close.

T.C. leaned in, eyes searching Dís' face. 

"What?" Dís hissed, annoyed by the constant distractions.

"Do you have a crush on him?" T.C. whispered conspiratorially.

"What? NO! No...what...don't you think that if I had a crush I'd tell you?"

"You did say you just met him tonight."

"I did! I can't get a crush after half an hour."

"Sure you can."

"Well, I don't have a crush so shush your mouth."

"He is kinda cute...even if he doesn't grease his hair." Mal jumped in in support of her fellow choruser. A quick round of approval from all members made it official; Bilbo Baggins was cute.

"Can we now have some quiet? I didn't come out here to listen to you jokers." Dís gumped, trying to hear her beloved Elvis over the kibbitzing.

Again T.C. leaned over, earning her an icy glare "Maybe he's hanging out with Thorin cuz your brother's a grade A chick magnet."

Dís took a noisy sip of her root beer, "Yeah, that's it. You nailed it, _chica_. Now, will you shush up?"

On the screen Elvis strummed a guitar.

  
_You're so young and beautiful and I love you so_  
_Your lips so red, your eyes that shine_  
_Shame the stars that glow_  
_So fill these lonely arms of mine_  
_And kiss me tenderly_  
_Then you'll be forever young_  
_And beautiful to me_  


And Dís made a silent promise for the hundredth time. No man, no matter how cute, nice, or charming they were, would ever take the place in her heart reserved for Mr. Elvis Aaron Presley. No one.

++++++++

  
_You're so young and beautiful, you're everything I love_  
_Your angel smile, your gentle touch_  
_Are all I'm dreaming of_  
_Oh take this heart I offer you_  
_And never set me free_  
_Then you'll be forever young_  
_And beautiful to me_  


"I have to say," Bilbo said, chewing noisily on a piece of Bit-O-Honey, "he does have a lovely voice."

On the screen Elvis' character, jailbird Vince Everett, was being told by his cell mate that he was hopeless with a guitar and " _got no rhythm in your bones_ ".

"Lovely?" Thorin asked, sounding a touch nonplussed. And while he'd heard his sister use many descriptive words to describe her favorite singer, _lovely_ was never one of them.

Bilbo looked over at Thorin. "No? What about melodic?" He offered. "Sonorous?"

"Sono...what was that?"

Bilbo took a drag on his straw but got nothing but the dregs; more melted ice cubes than soda, before asking, "What word would you use?"

Thorin shrugged noncommittally, "I don't know. It's 'good', I suppose."

Bilbo nodded despite his feelings regarding the word's inadequacy. "Alright then...Elvis has a good voice."

Thorin screwed up his face. "No...It's better than just good, you know?" He stole a glance at Bilbo just in time to catch the incredulity written all over the boy's face.

"Are you waiting for more choices? Or will the previous ones do?" Bilbo asked peevishly.

Thorin fought valiantly, but with little hope, to keep a shit-eating grin off his face. "What was that one that started with an 'S'? 

"Sonorous," Bilbo deadpanned.

"Yeah...that one! SOOOO-NOOOO-rous." Thorin over enunciated before giving in and laughing at the obviously irked boy. He threw his hands up dramatically when Bilbo pelted him with some well-aimed popcorn kernels.

"You know what? Your sister has you pegged." Bilbo glared daggers that were more rubber than steel.

"How's that?" 

"You are a jerk." Bilbo's grin grew until his cheeks hurt. And Thorin's worked to keep up.

"Well, now that you know the real me, do I drive you home now or can you wait?" 

Bilbo shook his head and turned his attention back to the screen, "Nah...I'm in no hurry."

This time Bilbo managed to get popcorn in Thorin's hair.

"Hey!" Thorin complained, shaking his head before lobbing some pieces back at his friend.

"Is for horses." Bilbo ducked, laughing, "Tell me something I don't already know, Thor-IN." 

Thorin's mouth opened as if to make words but he froze. What could he tell Bilbo that he didn't already know? Words were there, but they were more shadowy and incomplete than actual ideas made of syllables and sounds. He watched the boy, whose cheeks were properly ruddy from laughter, picking popcorn up off the car's seat and his lap...

Thorin's face burned all of a sudden and he looked away...up to the screen where it was safe.

Bilbo finished cleaning up the mess of popcorn and settled back, his heart beating happily in his chest. He was relieved that their uncomfortable moment was past them and now he and Thorin could just have a good time being together. He risked a glance as those last two words repeated again and again in his brain. There was Thorin, tall and dark; his long legs stretched out in faded denim, the beginning of a hole visible on one knee. He had one arm draped over the seat back; fingers callused with faint traces of grease along the beds of his nails. Bilbo found himself watching Thorin's face; in profile and a landscape of shadows and light reflected back from the movie screen. He followed the strong line from the slicked back waves of his black hair down to bearded chin. "What must it be like to wear the face of a man so early in life?" He wondered, unconsciously raising a hand to his own hairless cheek.

"You oughta take a picture, it'll last longer."

Blue eyes were smiling slyly at him, and Bilbo quickly looked away and busied himself with unwrapping another piece of candy.

"Why don't you just give me one, I'm sure you've got plenty." Bilbo snarked as he held the candy out.

"Thanks," Thorin took it. "These are really good," he added before popping the hard taffy in his mouth, 

"Shhhh!" Bilbo mock-scolded, "some of us are trying to watch the movie."

Thorin worked the candy in his mouth until it got soft and chewable, the flavor a tasty blend of honey and nuts. And he resisted ruffling Bilbo's hair.

++++++++

_"Brubeck and Desmond have gone just as far with dissonance as I care to go"_

"Yeah...I agree with that." Bilbo said, nodding.

Thorin shifted his gaze from the screen to Bilbo. The boy leaned forward in his seat, paying close attention to the scene. 

_"Have you heard Lennie Tristano's latest recording? He reached outer space."_

"That," Bilbo sat back in his seat, "is certainly one way of putting it."

"Putting what?" Thorin wondered what it was he had obviously missed. 

"Lennie Tristano."

"Who?"

"Lennie Tristano, the jazz pianist."

"What about him?"

"He takes dissonance way past what Brubeck and Desmond have set down."

"What are you tal..."

"Now I admit," Bilbo continued, excitedly, "I really don't know anything more about jazz other than I know what I like when I hear it but..." He turned to find Thorin watching him, baffled amusement writ large on his face. "Do you know jazz?"

"Mmm...nope." Thorin shook his head, slowly, the smile never leaving his eyes.

"I own a bunch of records. Maybe you can come over to my house sometime, I'll show you what I'm talking about." Bilbo offered. It took a couple of seconds for the reality of what he'd just done to sink in. When it did, and was making the tips of his ears burn, he waited for Thorin to say no. 

"O.K." was not the reply he expected, but it was the one he got. Bilbo tried really hard to play it cool.

"Yeah?" he tilted his head, eyeing the handsome boy sitting next to him.

Thorin, arm still slung along the back of the seat, flicked his fingers at Bilbo, stretching them, as if they were reaching out.

"Yeah."

++++++++

  
_You don't like crazy music._  
_You don't like rockin' bands._  


"Hey...I know this song!" Thorin burst out.

Bilbo looked up from trying to clean a butter smudge off of his glasses, "You do?

"Yeah, no foolin'! Buddy Holly did it on his last album." And Thorin surprised himself, probably more than Bilbo, when he began to sing along.

  
_You just wanna go to a movie show,_  
_And sit there holdin' hands._  
_You're so square._  
_Baby, I don't care._  


Thorin's voice, deep and warm when he spoke, held a tune with substantial success. Bilbo listened, enjoying the sound until the lyrics registered. His heart nearly exploded in his chest. Thorin laughed.

"Sound like someone we know?" 

Bilbo shook his head, nervously looking through his glasses to make sure they were clean, but he wasn't seeing anything. Blood pounded in his ears. "No... _haha_...what...huh?"

"You." Thorin said, giving Bilbo his best Elvis leer. "You're so square."

"OH!" Bilbo put his glasses back on, relief flooding his veins. "I suppose so. Can't confuse me for cool, can you?"

"Yeah, but I don't care."

Bilbo fought every step of the way to take his next breath.

++++++++

And the film played itself out with rock-n-roll superstar Vince Everett learning an important lesson about fame, friendship, and love. You know all is well when the hero gets the girl and croons until **THE END**.

As soon as the projector light cut out and the overhead lights went on, kids spilled out from all across the lot, while a fair number of cars rumbled to life and made their way to the exit. Thorin gathered up his burger wrapper and empty soda cup.

"Whadda ya say we get this trash out of here and stretch our legs. I don't want to give the car back to my cousin smelling like an old french fry." 

Bilbo quickly gathered up his candy wrapper and soda cup and gave a look under the seat for any stray bits of popcorn. Outside of the car, he followed Thorin to a trash can, one row over, and they dumped their garbage in. Bilbo had to jump away suddenly as a half-full popcorn tub, tossed by some leather-jacketed punk, hit the rim of the can and sent popcorn flying. 

"Hey creep!" Thorin swung his attention in the direction the missile was launched from, "watch where you're throwin' stuff!"

"Aww..." the punk waved cavalierly as he slung his arm around his gaudy lady's shoulders, "stick it in your ear!"

Thorin bristled, taking a step and ready to teach this individual some manners, but Bilbo grabbed at his jacket sleeve, a steady stream of, "No no no!" falling out of his mouth.

"You o.k.?" Thorin asked and Bilbo nodded, "Yeah, yeah...I'm fine. That was nothing...although," he chuckled, slightly embarrassed, "that soda has gone right through me. I'm going to head on up to the restroom."

"Yeah sure." Thorin said just a second before hearing, "WELLLLLLL...if it ain't Dieselhead Durin! How the HELL are ya, kid?!" Walking his way was Brett Halsey, a former schoolmate who befriended Thorin back when he was just a freshman and learning his way around the Pasadena High auto shop. And the only person who could get away with calling him "kid".

+

Bilbo slipped away before any awkward introductions became necessary and made his way amongst the other kids, who were going every which way, up to the bathroom. Instead of scanning the crowd for faces he'd rather avoid he found himself in an overall state of happy. He was, for the first time in quite a few, genuinely enjoying himself. He hadn't thought of his mom once in the last couple of hours and didn't even feel any regrets about abandoning Grandma Took on Lawrence Welk night like he thought he would. And he and Thorin were having such a good time together! There was no longer anything that even remotely smacked of doubt in Bilbo's mind; Thorin Durin was his friend. A huge smile broke out across his face along with a burst of adrenalin. He looked at his feet as he walked, kicking at the loose gravel, and nearly overwhelmed by the feeling that every single person present could read his mind.

+

"So, when you taking off?" Thorin asked, saddened that his old school mentor was moving away.

"We hit the road January third, but don't have to be in Concord until the fifteenth. I'm hoping to do a little sightseeing along the way." Brett explained. A friend of his had moved out to North Carolina to see what this stock car racing thing was all about and had filled Brett's head full of ideas about endless opportunities for a grease jockey who knew his way around a Hemi.

"See America!" Thorin teased.

Brett laughed, "Hey, gotta do it while I'm young, right? You know, if this thing is everything I've been led to believe, they got a whole lotta jobs where I'm headed. And there's not that many guys I trust more with a bucket of bolts than you. You graduate in June, right?"

Thorin nodded. Working on the kinds of cars used in stock car racing sounded like a good time, but North Carolina was so far away...

Thorin's vision drifted away, coasting past the restrooms only to lock on trouble. Heading, with what looked to him as a determined purpose, towards the entrance to the men's restroom were the Gundabad brothers; thugish Azog and his dim-witted clod of a younger brother, Bolg. This was bad. Very bad.

"Brett...brother, it sure was good to see you, but I gotta hit the can before the Dean flick." Thorin said, playing up the urgency of his need to pee. "The guys and I are going to the races next Saturday night. See ya there?" 

"You betcha, kid! Slap Dwalin on the back for me, will ya?" Brett said, doing that very thing to Thorin. As soon as they parted ways, Thorin hauled ass up to the restrooms, moving as fast as he could manage without actually running. Tonight might be the night some Gundabads die.

+

The relief was wonderful! Bilbo hadn't realized just how badly he'd had to go until he'd stepped inside the reasonably clean restroom and heard water running. Stepping up to a urinal, he unzipped in the nick of time. A giggle escaped when he thought about how his stream should probably be pink with how much strawberry soda he'd drunk. After a shake and a zip, he flushed and made his way to the sinks just on the other side of the partition, but he found his way blocked. Standing directly in front of him was Azog Gundabad; all six foot nothing of vulgar intimidation. Bilbo tried to walk right on past him, but again he was stopped, this time by Azog's younger, but no less awful, brother Bolg.

"Well, well, **WELL**...look at what we got right here! We got ourselves a little fairy princess, don't we?" Azog took a step closer, his pasty, scarred face screwed up in a leer. Bolg also moved a step closer. Bilbo clenched his hands and stood stock still. 

"Hey Zog," Bolg squinted as he peered at Bilbo's face, "aint this that little faggot from school?"

Azog chuckled. It was a low, ugly sound. "Yeah...YEAH! It sure is! How you doin', little _faggot_? Where's your Prince Charming, huh?"

Bilbo held himself as tall and rigid as he could. He was scared, but he was also angry and he would not let these cretins get the better of him.

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" He asked, the slightlest touch of a waver in his voice.

"Because it's not everyday I get to lay eyes on a pretty...little...fairy princess like you."

" _Huhuhuhhuhh_ ," Bolg laughed, stupidly. "Good one, Zog! Pretty fairy princess...but brother, this ain't no place for princesses."

"No, it is not. I believe it says 'men' outside the door. Apparently prissy little fairies can't read. Ain't that sad, Bolg?""

"Uh huh...that's real sad."

"Wanna know why?" Azog took another step closer to Bilbo, his expression one of mock concern. "Because it leads to situations like this. Misunderstandings, if you will." And another step.

Bilbo hated that he had to take a step back, but Azog was so close now he could smell the stomach-churning blend of body odor and cheap cologne. He clenched and re-clenched his hands as a way to grip on to whatever courage he had in him. "I'm going to leave now."

Azog shook his head. "No. Bolg, I'm afraid I need to teach this little fairy here his letters. I need to," and he took another step closer to Bilbo, "teach this little _faggot_ that he doesn't belong here. Cuz this is for men only and this little fruit ain't no man." 

Another step and another and Bilbo's heel hit the back wall. Azog's face hovered above him and the awful boy was smiling; his breath was sour and his teeth were a yellowish green. A hand, knuckles decorated in scabs and scars, came rushing up and Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut as the hand smacked the wall just inches from his face. 

"Don't touch me." Bilbo managed to eke the words out, but his blood pounded so thickly in his ears he didn't hear them.

"What was that, fag?" Azog was so close his breath stirred tendrils of hair on the top of Bilbo's head, "And what are you going to do about it if I do?"

"He's going to watch me make you cry like the piece of shit you are!"

Bilbo's eyes flew open at the same time Azog and Bolg both spun around. And there was Thorin, standing there, tall and menacing and just in time. Their eyes met for just a second, but a ghost of a half-smile assured Thorin that his friend was scared, but otherwise unscathed. 

Bolg backhanded his brother on the arm, "Hey! If it ain't Prince Charming!"

"Shut up, idiot!" Azog slapped his brother upside the head, "What a thing to call our good friend Durin, here!" He straightened his dirty jacket and smoothed a hand over his ghost white hair. "We was just trying to make some conversation with your little pal here. You need to tell him he'd make more friends if he were a bit more outgoing."

Thorin shook his head, "You just need to shut the fuck up and get out of here." 

Azog looked back at Bilbo, "I'll be seeing you around, _pal_." And he gave Bilbo a wink that bordered on lascivious. This time, Bilbo stepped up and pushed Azog as hard as he could.

"Get away from me!"

"You little fag..." Azog started to make a move at Bilbo, but a hand gripped the back of his jacket and he was suddenly being propelled toward the exit. 

"Get lost!" Thorin shoved Azog outside, to the great amusement of the kids who witnessed it. A glare sent Bolg running after his brother.

"One of these days Durin! I'm going to wipe the floor with you...you and your little pet!" Azog threatened, but a chorus of jeers from the audience sent him and his brother packing. Thorin watched them take off before going back inside. When he did, he found Bilbo washing his hands; his breathing heavy and his cheeks flushed.

"I'm o.k." Bilbo answered a question that Thorin didn't want to ask.

Thorin nodded, "I gotta take a leak. Wait for me?"

"Alright." Bilbo removed his glasses and pulled a cleaning cloth from his pocket with a slightly shaking hand. "Thorin."

Thorin leaned around the partition, "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Thorin gave Bilbo a crooked smile that bordered on goofy, "Hey, anything for you."

Bilbo shoved the cloth back in his pocket and set his glasses back on his face. He bit at his upper lip to keep from smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:  
> [ **Young and Beautiful**](https://youtu.be/_h1uzYYpgQ8)  
>  written by Aaron Schroeder and Abner Silver, 1957
> 
> [ **(You're So Square) Baby I Don't Care**](https://youtu.be/gOc8-crqh0g)  
>  written by Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller, 1957
> 
> Dave Brubeck and Paul Desmond are two of the most popular mid-century Jazz artists ever. In 1959 the Dave Brubeck Quartet (with Brubeck on piano and Desmond on Sax) released the album **Time Out** which would go to the top of the charts and be the first jazz album to ever be certified platinum. The track [**Take Five**](https://youtu.be/tT9Eh8wNMkw) is probably the most recognizable jazz composition ever. I highly recommend checking out the link. It's a great performance video with an absolutely mind-blowing drum solo. These cats are so cool, they're stone cold!
> 
> [Lennie Tristano](http://www.lennietristano.com/) was an influential improvisational jazz pianist. Take a listen to this [Solo Piano](https://youtu.be/CJjf9iBqcgU) performance, and you'll see that Tristano absolutely revels in dissonance (to my uneducated ears it sounds like key smashing with occasional moments of sanity...definitely outer space, dad!).
> 
> Thorin is a [Buddy Holly](https://youtu.be/aRr9yM4VbbE) fan (and OMG SO AM I AS OF, LIKE, THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY!). At that time, a lot of songs were covered by more than one artist, so it's not that weird that both Elvis and Buddy Holly would have hits with the same song at around the same time. 
> 
> The name Brett Halsey I stole from an actor who played the "good guy" in the teen exploitation film [**High School Hellcats**](https://youtu.be/EjnJQj0Xt8I) (1958). It's a fun film about a good girl who gets caught up in a bad-girl gang. It's free to stream on Amazon Prime...not sure it it's available on Netflix or Hulu, though. It's worth checking out.
> 
> Thorin's buddy Brett is heading off to North Carolina to get in on some of that Stock Car racing action, a.k.a. NASCAR. The sport was still in its youth, but growing rapidly. The [Charlotte Motor Speedway](www.charlottemotorspeedway.com/), located in Concord, North Carolina, broke ground in 1959 and hosted the first World (now Coca Cola) 600 Sprint Cup Race in 1960. I'm thinking there'd be a lot of opportunities for a fella who knows his way around an engine.
> 
> For anyone who is interested in the music of the time...I found a wonderful collection on iTunes! It's 100 tracks, all original artists (and people like Elvis, Buddy Holly, Bill Halley, Chuck Berry...a lot of really well known hits) and only $3.99!! So worth it to have an instant kick-ass fifties playlist!! Oh...it's called **Rock 'n' Roll & Jukebox Hits: 100 Originals from the 50's**. Typed out exactly like that. It's the MOST!!
> 
> My tumblr blog for this fic is up! [2941-acorn-lane](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/). It's still pretty rudimentary (and I'm not happy with the theme yet), but the mobile/dashboard/whatever-that-thing-is version has the watercolor painting I did of the house, which turned out kind of okay. 
> 
> There is a WONDERFUL little store in Beaverton, OR called [Rocket Fizz](http://www.rocketfizz.com/), which I have just this second discovered is a franchise and there are shops, like, everywhere. HOT DAMN! Go find your nearest Rocket Fizz and soak up the awesome atmosphere and pick up some excellent vintage candy and bottled sodas (Nesbitt's Strawberry Soda is DELICIOUS!). I told the lady running the place that I loved the store and she gave me 10% off coupon! SCORE!!!
> 
> As far as the blog...it will be everything relevant to the fic and the time (music, movies, fashion, etc...) but I'll also try to find things relevant to the gay experience at that time as well as other cultures and ethnic groups that make up the awesomeness that is Southern California.
> 
> I also have my regular, still-crying-over-botfa [blog](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/), so come say "HI!!"
> 
> I greatly welcome any information, personal experiences, etc...anyone wants to share. I LOVE BEING EDUCATED!! I also appreciate kind corrections, so let me know where I've erred. XD


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close encounter with the bully brings Bilbo and Thorin even closer. There's still another movie to watch and questions will be asked that have answers that may have always been there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being familiar _Rebel Without a Cause_ is not required, but if you haven't seen it...treat yourself to something really wonderful and watch it! I had never seen it when I picked it for this fic and I couldn't have chosen a better movie. Now, there are spoilers in this chapter, just so you know.
> 
> Again I vacillated over the rating and decided to bump it up to 'M'. The new tags include *smoking*, *french kissing*, *frottage*, *masturbation*, and *mention of deaths in the family*. 
> 
> I MADE AN 8 TRACKS PLAYLIST!!!  
> [ _Music to Neck To_](http://8tracks.com/stesha-n/music-to-neck-to) It includes songs mentioned in the chapter as well as songs I may have had on repeat while writing.

Thorin pulled a battered pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket. He knew better than to offer one to Bilbo, although he figured the boy could probably use something to take the edge off. With the cigarette dangling from his lip he pulled out his Zippo lighter and, with a skill that came from a lot of practice, lit it with one hand. Taking a deep drag, he let the tension from the encounter with Azog escape in a puff of smoke.

Bilbo wasn't about to scold Thorin about his filthy habit. Not now. Not this time. He watched Thorin light his cigarette, handling the Zippo in one hand, flipping it this way and that and BAM! the cigarette was lit and between Thorin's lips and he was sucking on it, the lit tip glowing big and red. Bilbo watched, his face positively alight with admiration, but they were now walking away from the big lamp post by the restrooms so there was no way Thorin could see it. No way he could see everything that was illustrated on Bilbo's face in tones of flush and glow.

"I don't think I can thank you enough, Thorin, that was really..." Bilbo didn't even try to find a word that would work and instead gesticulated enthusiastically with his hands, culminating with a punch at the night air.

"I'm just glad I made it up there in time." Thorin admitted, glancing down at his friend's adrenalin-fueled excitement. He couldn't help chuckling and Bilbo looked up at him, all pink-cheeked and really cute. Thorin took a drag off his cigarette, wishing that his heart would stop its weird fluttering-with-a-skipped-beat thing.

Bilbo chuckled, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, "I seem to have all the luck when you're around."

Thorin let the smoke out slowly, "I don't believe in luck."

"No?"

"No," Thorin shook his head, "Real luck would keep that piece of work far away from you."

"Oh, come on. No one's THAT lucky."

"Exactly. Anyway," Thorin playfully nudged Bilbo's arm with his own, "it looked to me like you could've handled him just fine on your own."

"What...oh, you mean my little shove?" Bilbo winced, suddenly embarrassed, "I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, but I'm afraid he would've clobbered me if you hadn't have been there."

"Creeps like Azog are chicken underneath all the ugly. Give 'em what they least expect and they learn to leave you alone."

"Well, I hope he does leave me alone. You can't always be there to save me. I really could never be that lucky."

Words sat, as clear as they could be, cued and ready in Thorin's brain but his jaw locked, his tongue paralyzed, because they were some of the scariest truth he'd ever realized. And, even if he could've given them their freedom, they most likely would've assembled themselves into a mess of "I WANT to believe in your luck and always be there to protect you...I want to be there...with you...I want to be with you...I want...". He took a deep drag, pulling the smoke in wrong and ending up in a fit of coughing. Bilbo made him stop walking and patted his back until the coughing stopped.

"Don't quit breathing on me."

Thorin nodded, finally managing to take a deep breath. "I'll do my damndest. Thanks."

"Friends take care of one another." Bilbo reminded, his hand lingering on Thorin's back longer than it needed to.

"Yes we do." Thorin looked at Bilbo, at the care he saw in those bright eyes behind the tortoise shell glasses. The small, steady pressure on his back slid away and he wanted it to return. "Hey," he took some quick steps to catch up when he realized Bilbo had resumed walking, "I'm really sorry he said those things to you. You shouldn't have to hear shit like that."

Bilbo shrugged, "It's not the first time I've heard them and it won't be the last."

"It shouldn't be like that." Thorin leaned in, getting his mouth as close to the boy's ear as was possible. "You don't deserve it." Honey-hued curls tickled his nose.

The places Bilbo's mind wanted to travel would've caused the boy considerable trouble if it hadn't been for a very loud, "THORIN! BILBO! WHERE'VE YOU LOSERS BEEN?" Up ahead, sitting on the trunk of the Bel Air, was Dís, her army surplus shirt all buttoned up, the sleeves pulled down over her hands to keep them warm. Thorin quickly dropped his cigarette to the ground, hoping his sister hadn't caught sight of it. He had promised mama he'd quit.

"We've been avoiding rude little girls, that's where." Thorin grumbled when they reached the car. "Get off," he scolded, smacking her lightly on the knee.

"Sorry, Bilbo," Dís smiled at her brother's friend as she slid off of the trunk, "I meant _loser_. Singular. I'm cold, Thorin, open the door. _Please_." The nicety earned her a smirk instead of a glare.

When the passenger door was unlocked, Bilbo held it open for her, bowing to the girl as she climbed into the backseat. He had just settled himself up front when there was a blur in the far corner of his vision and a quick pressure on his cheek.

"That was for being a real sweetheart," Dís explained to the silent faces staring at her; one dumbfounded, the other wearing a silly grin, his hand pressed to his cheek. "We girls decided you're o.k.," she continued as she wrapped herself in a blue and gold plaid woolen blanket, "and kind of cute, too."

"Kind of cute, huh? Did you hear that? Not bad for a square." Bilbo peeped over at Thorin, his smile having gone quite smug.

"Yeah," Thorin mumbled, his heart doing somersaults in his chest. All of a sudden, he was really glad those little girls had gone home.

Bilbo's smile faded, his eyes locked on his friend's. He had caught Thorin looking at him like that before, like he was trying to figure him out, like he was some great mystery to unravel.

(There really was no mystery. Bilbo knew exactly what he was. No mystery.)

He raised his hand because he wanted to lay it on Thorin's arm and try to take away some of the uneasiness in his eyes, but he thought better of it. Sometimes mysteries were better off staying that way. He lowered it and instead turned back to Dís, wrapped in her father's old college blanket, and he was grateful for the distraction.

"What made you ditch your friends?" 

"You gotta get it right, buddy, they ditched me!" 

"Dís!" Thorin growled from his side of the front seat.

"Gee whiz, Thorin, they did!" Dís' indignant face was all that showed amidst a sea of wooly plaid. Her brother's eyes glared back at her from the rear view mirror. "Oh, alright...I'm sorry, Bilbo, it's just that most of them have to go to mass real early in the morning. Hey," she tapped Bilbo on the shoulder, "you don't have to go to mass, do you?"

"I have been going with my grandma since moving here, but it's only to keep her company, really."

"Do you have to go tomorrow?"

Thorin listened to the question that came out of his sister's mouth. _Tomorrow_. Tomorrow, Dís and he were driving into Hollywood, just so they could go to one of her favorite places, a large bookstore on the boulevard. A large _bookstore_.

Dís bounced in place. "If you don't have to go to church you should come with us."

Bilbo looked from the smiling girl-face next to his on the back of the seat to the boy sitting next to him, watching him expectantly...hopeful. His eyes locked on Thorin's. "And where are we going?" he asked.

"It's a bookstore," Thorin answered, glad to have Bilbo's attention away from his sister, "a really big bookstore. In Hollywood."

"A large bookstore in Hollywood? You don't have to ask me twice! I'd love to." Bilbo felt as if Thorin had just offered him a first-class ticket to heaven. Of course he'd go! But, in all honesty, and Bilbo had discovered real early on he could never be anything but one hundred percent completely honest with himself, there probably weren't many places he wouldn't go with Thorin. He'd follow him anywhere. And right now, 'anywhere' was Hollywood.

"Come with us!" Dís squealed, bouncing on the edge of the backseat. Bilbo laughed out loud.

"So you'll go?" Thorin asked, not wanting to make assumptions, what with the acrobatics happening in his chest. He may have missed something.

"You bet! Of course I will!"

"Your grandma won't be mad?" Dís asked

"Aw heck, no. She'll be happy that I have friends and I'm having..."

Bilbo was interrupted by a hand shooting past his face, pointing at the screen. "MOVIE!" Dís announced abruptly.

On the screen, a Warner Bros. logo was plastered over a shot of nighttime city lights. _Rebel Without a Cause_ , starring James Dean as troubled youth Jim Stark; the actor who had become a legend when he had died in a car wreck at the age of 24, just three years before. The actor who had given the kids a voice and honest, just-like-in-real-life, portrayals of what it was like to be young and restless in this modern age of fast cars and prosperity, expectations and temptations.

Thorin remembered seeing it back in '55 when it was first released. It had been October and cold and raining. He had been a brat kid at 14, the same age Dís was now. Mama had refused to pay good money to let her son see a movie about juvenile delinquents ("I don't understand why everyone's making such a big deal about this Dean character. I hope you see what being a delinquent gets you, Thorin...it gets you an early grave...if only your father was still with us..."). And since arguing with mama never got any of her kids anywhere fast, Thorin had enlisted the help of his cousin Dwalin and together they convinced Dwalin's much older brother Balin into taking them. Balin had agreed easily, driving the boys to that big fancy movie house in Hollywood, paying for the tickets and even springing for popcorn and cokes. Thorin had sat through the entire film transfixed, much like he was at this very moment. He couldn't find it in him to scold Dís for being rude yet again, all he could manage was a weak wave of his hand and a half-assed "shhh".

And the movie played.

++++++++

Thorin oftentimes wondered what life would be like if his father were still alive. He could see papa, tall and handsome, his hair a glossy black wave with hints of silver and smelling of Vitalis, stealing kisses from mama in the kitchen before leaving for work, his metal lunch pail in hand. And always there had been bear hugs for his boys and a kiss for his little princess before he walked out the door and pulled away in the big red Hudson. Papa had been a good man, a real good father. Nothing like the fathers in the movie. Not weak and kowtowing like Jim's and certainly not cold and angry like Judy's. No, if anything he was like Plato's father...gone. But it hadn't been by his own choice. No man chooses to die and leave his family behind. And there's no way he would've decided to take Frerin with him. No, that hadn't been a decision left to him. The drunk in the brand new Mercury had made that call. Thorin fiddled with his empty _Good and Plenty_ box and wondered if he would be sitting here, thinking the things he had been thinking about the boy next to him, if papa were still alive. He decided it was better not to think about things like that. Papa was somewhere far away and beyond being disappointed in his son.

He heard a sniffle to his right.

+

Bilbo had been pulled, by both hands, into the story unfolding on the screen. He hadn't seen it when it first came out because when it came to movies, he usually preferred them funny or musical or both. Those were the kinds of movies his mom had always taken him to. On the weekends, they would ride the streetcar to the cinema on Van Ness to catch a double bill, usually Danny Kaye or Bob Hope, and then get all kinds of stares from people as they made each other laugh by recalling the best jokes or singing the songs. Those had been happy times that now seemed long ago.

He unwrapped another Bit O' Honey. He was worried about the boy nicknamed Plato, played by Sal Mineo. The boy was deeply troubled and starved for affection. And there was something else, something Bilbo saw, almost from the start. It was in the way Plato looked at Jim. And followed him. And talked about him. Bilbo saw it and it bothered him. It wasn't about Plato being what he was, because Bilbo understood all about that. What bothered him was the thought that maybe this was how things were between him and Thorin. Maybe he was the lonely boy affixing himself to the side of the first handsome face to smile back at him. He knew Thorin idolized James Dean and maybe that's what this all was, merely his attempt at living up to the ideals he'd seen on the screen. And he felt tears welling up at the idea that to be like Plato meant to always be on the outside, living on the fringe. He sniffled and immediately began checking his pockets for a handkerchief. He could feel Thorin watching.

"The one time I need a handkerchief I go and leave them all at home. Seems about right for me..."

"Here," Thorin held out the red bandana he always kept in his back pocket. "I swear it's clean."

Bilbo smiled through the tears and embarrassment, "Thank you. I promise to wash the snot out of it." It felt good to make Thorin chuckle. He wiped away his tears and wiped his nose and sucked up every ounce of his courage and asked a question, whispering the words so as not to wake Dís, who had fallen sound asleep on the back seat.

"Are we like that?"

"Like what?" Thorin's heart began doing back-flips and he held his breath, waiting for the next words to come out of Bilbo's mouth.

"Like Jim and Plato. You and me. Are you just being kind?"

Thorin looked at the boy sitting next to him, eyes rimmed red behind his glasses. He could hear James Dean's voice coming in, loud and clear, through the drive in speaker. He was speaking softly, kindly, to Plato. And, doing the bravest thing he'd ever done in his almost eighteen years of life, he reached over and gently ruffled Bilbo's curls and they were silky soft under his fingers. His hand slid down until it cupped the side of the boy's face. "No." He shook his head, "We're different. You and me." And he caressed a smooth cheek with his thumb.

"Thorin," Bilbo took a deep breath, "I..."

Both boys nearly had the life scared out of them by the yawn that came roaring over the back of the seat. They practically leapt apart, and just in the nick of time, because Dís popped her head up and planted it right between them.

"So, what did I miss?" she asked, managing to talk while letting out another monster yawn.

"How about an hour of snoring with the occasional drool." Thorin answered, none too kindly.

Dís was just too sleepy to call her brother names and instead asked Bilbo if he had any leftover popcorn.

"Not much, but you're welcome to it." Bilbo handed the box to the girl.

"Thank you. You know, you're a real swell kid. Maybe you can give my brother some lessons."

Bilbo looked at the red bandana in his hands and shook his head, "No...I think your brother is just fine the way he is."

Dís fell back against the seat, "He's got you snowed, all right."

Bilbo chuckled and snuck a glance at Thorin, who was watching him, his lips curved in a small smile, "I suppose he does, but I can think of worse things."

Dís sighed, "Yup...completely snowed."

++++++++

By the end of the movie, Bilbo's sniffles had turned into full blown tears. He'd had a feeling that things weren't going to turn out well for Plato in the end and when Jim Stark cried over the body of his friend, Bilbo couldn't help crying as well. He could hear Thorin sniffling beside him and he apologized for having his bandana.

"Don't be silly," Thorin said, wiping tears away with the heel of his palm, "You seem to need it more than I do."

"It was just so sad," Bilbo admitted, "all of it...what happened to Plato. At least he'd had Jim and Judy, for a little while at least." He looked over at Thorin who smiled at him.

"Hey, come on now, no more water works. It was just a movie. Remember that, o.k.?"

Bilbo nodded, smiling eyes wet and sparkling. Thorin reached over and squeezed his leg.

"Hey," he announced, "Whadda ya kids say we get out of here?"

The consensus was unanimous and Thorin fired up the Bel Air. They got in line with all of the other cars that were jockeying for position to leave the lot and, soon enough, the Chevy was rumbling for open road freedom. This time, it was Bilbo's job to man the radio dial and he settled on a station with a more laid back approach to its programming than the ones Dís had been keen on. He relaxed back, this time without a seatbelt and perhaps a bit closer to the driver.

_Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket_

_Never let it fade away_

_Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket_

_Save it for a rainy day_

Through the radio's speakers, Perry Como reminded everyone of the benefits of having a pocketful of starlight and Bilbo couldn't help singing along, softly. It was to his great surprise that he heard Dís, still wrapped up in the plaid blanket, singing along. He turned around and caught the girl in the act.

"What?" Dís asked, as innocently as she could.

"I'd always figured Perry Como was strictly for squares?" Bilbo countered her question with his own.

"Yeah," the girl answered, "but who doesn't know the words to this song? You hear it everywhere."

"I don't." Thorin chimed in, bursting her bubble.

"It's pretty simple," Bilbo proceeded to sing along with the often repeated chorus and, by the end of the song, Thorin's deep voice was added to Bilbo and Dís'. Bilbo felt a sort of thrill of victory and giggled.

Now it was Thorin's turn to ask, "What?"

Bilbo shook his head, failing at a look of innocence, "Oh, it's nothing...it's just...you have a lovely voice. That's all."

Thorin pulled up to a stop light and looked at the smiling boy next to him. "Lovely, huh?"

"Yeah," Bilbo nodded, his cheeks hurting, "much better than good."

"You should drag him to glee sometime!" Dís suggested.

Thorin tossed Bilbo a look that may have been one of caution or possibly sheer terror. It was hard to tell in the dark.

"Don't worry," Bilbo let his hand brush lightly against his friend's leg, "I wouldn't do that to you." And he would've sworn he saw Thorin give a visible sigh of relief.

Before very long, they pulled up in front of the Durin home, with its tidy front yard and bleached white curtains, a lamp burning in the front window. Dís wanted to know where her brother and his friend were going that they had to get rid of her first, but a steely look and a "None of your beeswax," settled the argument before it started. "Besides," Thorin told her, "you need your sleep. I don't want you crabbing around Hollywood tomorrow because you were up all night."

"Same goes for you, Mr. Crabapple himself." Dís untangled herself from the big blanket and slid out of the backseat, Bilbo again holding the door open for her.

"I'm really glad I got to know you tonight, Miss Durin," Bilbo held out his hand. She took it and they shook.

"Me too," she said, liking the way his hand felt in hers, "You know...since we're not strangers...we can say 'hi' to one another at school."

"You bet," Bilbo let go of the girl's hand and she took a few steps away before turning back around and, giving Bilbo a slow up-and-down, gave her best approximation of a smoldering glance.

"Flippy," she purred, "real flippy." And with that she sashayed up to the house.

Bilbo slipped back into the front seat, getting a kick out of the girl. "She's a real cute kid, your sister." Thorin merely 'hmph'd in response as he watched his sister go inside the house, safe and sound. "She must take after her brother." Bilbo added.

Thorin turned his attention from the front door of his house to the boy next to him...the handsomely pretty boy who looked at him as if he were daring him...daring him to go somewhere he had never before truly considered and now it seemed the only way to go. Thorin was not one to back away from a dare.

"So, where to now?" He asked, offering a dare of his own.

Bilbo honestly had no idea where he wanted to go, so he looked Thorin directly in the eyes, those blue eyes, brilliant even now in the dark of night. And he licked his lips and said, "I don't care."

Thorin looked back into green eyes that held all the answers and he felt certain he knew what the answers were as well, "Alright," he re-ignited the engine, "'I don't care' it is. And when we get there, what do you want to do?"

Bilbo smiled up at Thorin, his heart trilling in his chest, feeling as if he were only a step or two from throwing himself from a cliff into who knows what.

"Anything." He let the word fall off his tongue.

Thorin let his eyes roam over the boy's face and he knew they had to get out of there now. He gunned the engine.

"I think we can manage that."

And they drove off into the night.

++++++++

For the entirety of the drive up into the hills, both Thorin and Bilbo were relatively quiet. Every now and then Bilbo would sing along with the song on the radio, his hands clutching the red bandana. Thorin drove, knowing exactly where he was going and hoping that it would be safe enough for them. He eventually turned off a road that was winding upward and onto a narrower one, barely paved in places, that tracked through a copse of trees until it came to an end on the edge of an overlook. Down below, the city of Pasadena twinkled like so many fireflies. Thorin pulled up to the wooden fence that lined the cliff and stopped. He set the brake and turned off the engine. There was silence for a moment before he turned to Bilbo.

"Stay here. I'll be right back." And he got out of the car. The autumn night air was crisp and the twinkling stars in the ebony sky were more visible up here, away from the city lights. Thorin looked up at them before peering into the surrounding darkness. There didn't seem to be any other cars close by, which was what he was hoping for. And he crossed his fingers that they would remain alone up there. He walked back to the car.

Bilbo looked out at the city lights and about at the dark trees. He noticed there weren't any other cars, at least none that he could see, and his stomach did a flip-flop that was so many parts excited anticipation and so many parts quivering uncertainty. In his mind he quickly ran back over the last six weeks, every word spoken and every moment shared with the boy who was currently making his way back to the car. He wondered if there was ever a moment in their shared history, when he had had even an inkling that they would end up here, just on the verge of doing...well, whatever it was they were going to do. And Bilbo did have some wishes as far as that was concerned. Thorin opened the door and slid back in.

"Looks like we're the only ones up here," he said.

Bilbo could smell the night air that came in with him. "This is a beautiful view."

"I thought you might like it." Thorin gazed out the front window before turning to Bilbo. The boy smiled shyly and looked away.

"You've been here before?" Bilbo worried the bandana until a larger hand lay over his. It was warm and calmed the unease in the pit of his stomach.

"Yeah...once...with a girl." Thorin gently squeezed the boy's hands. "But I'm here with you now."

Bilbo took a deep, much needed breath. "Thank you," he said, trying to ignore the quaver he heard in his own voice, "for everything...tonight...I had a really good time. Thorin...I... _Oh god..."_

Every nerve ending in Bilbo's body sizzled. Thorin's other hand had found its way to the back of his neck, long fingers sliding up into the boy's tawny hair. Blood rushed from his head, his suddenly heavy eyelids closed, and he pressed into the touch. There was a slight squeak from the car's bench seat as Thorin inched closer until Bilbo could feel soft puffs of breath on his face. And they sat like that for a moment, silent, Thorin's fingers gently massaging until Bilbo peeled his hot, dry tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"Thorin?" He eked out between thundering heart beats. He touched Thorin's face, his fingertips brushing across whiskers he had been dying to feel.

"Hmmmm?" Thorin hummed, his head dropping until their foreheads touched.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

Thorin nodded, the tip of his nose brushing Bilbo's. "Yes." slipped from his lips like a sigh. There was movement and a warm, quick pressure against his mouth. He struggled to focus on the face in front of him.

"Was that my first kiss?" Bilbo asked, voice shaking. Thorin shook his head.

"No." And he kissed Bilbo, their lips fitting together as it seemed they were always meant to. Bilbo's mouth was soft and dry. When they pulled apart Thorin looked for approval in darkened eyes. "Will that one do?"

"Yes," Bilbo said, an ecstatic giggle bubbling up from his chest. "It was perfect." He pulled Thorin's mouth back to his. And now they kissed; each one just a bit more than the last. For Bilbo, every dream, every curiosity, every wonder he had ever had about what this moment would be like was being answered for him. And all of it was perfect, except for one little thing...

"Sorry," Bilbo pulled away, reluctantly, as Thorin was left mid-pucker. The boy yanked off his glasses. "They're getting in the way."

"I think they're starting to fog up." Thorin kidded.

Bilbo chuckled and folded them up and slipped them into his jacket pocket and then he slid out of that, hanging it neatly over the back of the seat, out of their way. He turned back to Thorin, "Wouldn't matter if they were, you're going to be blurry from now on either way."

Thorin leaned in and kissed Bilbo, "You're crystal clear."

"And that's a good thing?" Bilbo tried to focus on Thorin's eyes, but with his eyesight being what it was, and the darkness only lit by starlight and a waning moon, he couldn't quite make out the sincerity that lay in them.

Thorin cupped Bilbo's head with his hands and rubbed the tip of his nose up and down the bridge of the boy's. "It's a very good thing." He said before kissing him again, and this time it was deeper and wetter and Bilbo could feel his body react enthusiastically to it. He surprised even himself when he tickled and teased at Thorin's upper lip with the tip of his tongue. And wasn't it a whole new box of pretty marbles when Thorin opened his mouth to him! Thorin, what with the motorbike and big boots, grease in his hair, and that switchblade stashed away in the lining of his leather jacket...this tough guy who could be hard as nails on the outside was actually velvety soft on the inside. His tongue felt absolutely glorious against Bilbo's as they collided and slid, dragging against one another in a battle that neither seemed too interested in winning. Bilbo found himself finally having to pull away just so he could suck some of the extra saliva in his mouth down his throat. He squinted at Thorin and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Thorin asked, wiping a drop of drool from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I..." Bilbo hesitated, "You're going to think I'm really strange."

"How do you know? Go on and try me." Thorin was curious as to what Bilbo might consider 'strange'.

"I..." Bilbo closed his eyes and hung his head, "I like your spit."

Now it was Thorin's turn to laugh, "You do?"

Bilbo slapped Thorin lightly on the chest. "See! I told you you'd think I was strange."

Thorin grabbed that slapping hand and pressed a kiss to it, "No! Of course I don't think you're strange! But now you're going to have to tell me what I taste like."

Bilbo thought about it for a moment before leaning in for another kiss. "You taste like licorice...*kiss*....and tobacco...*smack*...and tough guy..."

Thorin chuckled, "'Tough guy', huh?"

Bilbo nodded enthusiastically. "The toughest guy I know."

"Well, that's alright, I suppose." Thorin dropped his gaze, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically humbled by the boy's high opinion.

Bilbo leaned down to catch Thorin's eye, "I think so."

"You know..." Thorin looked into those pretty eyes, "you taste pretty good yourself."

"Do I?" And those eyes were alight, Thorin could tell, even in the dark.

"Yeah, you're all sweet like candy and soda and..." Thorin leaned in and kissed Bilbo, sucking his lower lip in between his teeth, "and salty and buttery." And he nuzzled the side of the boy's face before whispering in his ear, "Good enough to eat."

Bilbo wondered if there was even a single drop of blood left in his brain, he felt positively faint and his lip throbbed where Thorin had gently bitten him. He tried to focus on the face in front of him, the face that had that mouth that did things to him and said things that he had thought could only happen in his most wildest dreams. He laid his hands on either side of Thorin's head and pulled him in for a kiss and, together, they tasted and drank deeply from one another. Bilbo nearly toppled over with a swoon when he felt Thorin's fingers ghost down the side of his neck with one finger hooking over the edge of his open collar and tugging.

"How do you feel about taking this to the back seat?" Thorin asked with a husky burn to his voice that seemed to rub against Bilbo's skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

The back seat. Bilbo had never been in a back seat with anyone before. He knew what that could mean; many a warning tale of the dangers that lurked in the back seat floated around these days, tales of girls who went back there, innocent, and came out sadder and wiser. Not being a girl, he knew that _that_ wasn't something he had to worry about...but there were other things...things he knew about...things that made him blush, even as he sat there with a healthy amount of Thorin's spit on his face and a tightness in his trousers...this is what worried him. He knew he liked Thorin. He liked him an awful lot. And maybe some day he would be ready to do those things with him, but not tonight. Tonight...everything was still too new for him, and he didn't want to rush anything.

"We don't have to." Thorin said, seeing Bilbo's reticence and knowing it for what it was. Perhaps it was too soon for the back seat, even though he honestly had no idea what going back there could mean for them. He wasn't about to pressure the boy into doing anything and he wanted Bilbo to understand that. He sat straight up and shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, "I'll keep my hands in my pockets the whole time, I swear."

This did the trick to dissipate the worry that wriggled in Bilbo's belly. He chuckled as he rubbed Thorin's arm, "It's not _your_ hands I'm worried about."

Thorin pulled his hands out of his pockets. With one hand he propped his head up on the back of the seat. The other found a comfortable place on Bilbo's nicely rounded thigh. "You know we don't have to do anything you're not sure of. Hell, I don't even know what I'm doing...just sort of going with it."

"Well," Bilbo laid a hand atop the one on his leg, "I think you're doing a wonderful job of winging it."

Thorin squeezed, gently, "I think it just means this is right."

Bilbo picked up the hand and pressed a kiss into Thorin's palm, "This has to be right," he whispered.

Thorin sat up and brushed his knuckles across Bilbo's cheek, "At least the back should be more comfortable."

"What are we waiting for?" Bilbo smiled and Thorin wondered if he'd ever seen anything more beautiful before.

Neither boy wasted any time getting in the back, although Bilbo did have to take a moment to gulp in a few lungfuls of fresh air to slow the spinning in his head that began the moment he stood up. And, on top of that, the swelling in his trousers insisted on marking itself as present with the slightest movement. As discreetly as he could, he adjusted himself and slipped into the back seat where Thorin was waiting for him.

"Hi," he said, acutely aware of where he was, and who he was there with, and he was overcome with shyness, which was odd considering what they'd been up to. Thorin chuckled and softly brushed the hair back off of Bilbo's forehead.

"Hi, yourself, you handsome thing," Thorin leaned in and took a kiss, his hands holding Bilbo's head as his tongue swept into the boy's mouth, leaving them both breathless. Bilbo's body vibrated all over and he struggled to focus on the boy - the man - next to him, touching him, kissing him. He suddenly _needed_ to be even closer, and without another word, Bilbo found himself astride Thorin's lap; knees under bottom and thighs snuggly resting alongside each other.

Thorin relaxed back into the seat. "Wow." he breathed, surprised by this bold new move.

"Is this o.k.?" Bilbo asked, wondering if he had already led them a step too far.

"More than o.k." Thorin laid his hands on Bilbo's thighs and slid them up until they rested on his hips.

Bilbo took a deep, shuddering breath and, reaching out, unzipped Thorin's jacket all the way. He pushed the edges aside, revealing a torso clad in a white t-shirt. Laying his hands on Thorin's broad chest, he found it well-muscled and the texture of the dark, curling hairs that covered it, even through the thin layer of cotton, was delicious under his fingertips. Lower he went, to the firm abdomen that seemed to quiver under his gentle touch. Continuing to explore, Bilbo's hands eventually brushed against the waistband of Thorin's jeans. Daring a glance lower, he noticed the shadowy evidence of arousal. He found himself frightfully curious but finally pulled his eyes away before his hands became too randy. That would've been just too much too soon.

Thorin had hardly dared to breathe as the boy's hands discovered him. Even the gentlest pressure of Bilbo's fingers on his body was driving him out of his mind, and his jeans had become almost unbearably tight, but when he felt Bilbo's fingers touch his waistband, he stopped breathing altogether. And he watched. And he saw. First the curiosity in Bilbo's eyes. He honestly didn't know if he'd have the where-with-all to stop him if he continued on in the obvious direction. But then Bilbo looked away and Thorin all but breathed a sigh of relief. He took Bilbo's right hand, kissed it, and laid it over his heart.

Bilbo sat still, feeling the powerful muscle that beat under his hand. It was the very thing that gave Thorin life and in that moment it was the most magnificent heart that had ever beat in all the long history of human hearts. Feeling it thump its heavy rhythm, Bilbo thought he could hear the melody that accompanied it in his head and he leaned forward, hoping to bring the rhythm and melody together. The hand that lay over Thorin's heart pushed him into the seat as Bilbo's other hand found it's way to his throat, the thumb caressing his pulse. And Bilbo kissed him. And it was deep. And it was hard. It was meant to claim Thorin, claim his heart and his soul. And Thorin willingly, eagerly, handed them over to the boy on his lap, the boy who was currently leaving a wet trail down his neck. He heard himself moan when he felt the skin at the crook of his neck being sucked in between those pretty lips. Bilbo eventually allowed the delicate patch of skin to go free and placed a kiss over the wet, red welt. He came up, lips swollen and out of breath. Thorin gave him a shaky smile.

"Little boys who go to church with their grandmas shouldn't know how to kiss like that." he uttered with a lust thickened tongue.

Bilbo smiled, and Thorin saw that his eyes were blown wide and black. The boy ran a fingertip over Thorin's lower lip. "I'm not a little boy."

"No, you're not." And Thorin threw himself forward, his arms sliding around Bilbo's waist and back and he pulled the boy towards him, until they were chest to chest, and he made his claim. Bilbo gasped at the sudden movement of the larger, stronger body underneath him and when they came together there was a bump and then a grind and then the most deliriously beautiful warmth flowed through him and he wrapped his arms tightly around Thorin and held on for dear life as another...and then another...and then...

"THORIN!" He shouted and his body went completely rigid as his climax rode rough shod through him. He plastered his face against Thorin's neck, and eventually realized that Thorin was rocking him gently, whispering, "shhhh...baby. It's o.k. Everything's o.k." He took a deep breath, filling his nose with the masculine musk that he recognized as uniquely Thorin's. And then a cold blanket of shame enveloped him.

"I'm so sorry." He whimpered, his face still buried in Thorin's neck.

"What could you have to be sorry about?"

Bilbo raised his head but he couldn't bring himself to look Thorin in the eye, "I never meant that to happen...I didn't think it would go that far."

The deep embarrassment in Bilbo's voice pained Thorin's heart. "No...come on. There's no reason for you to be sorry. Hell, I was two seconds away from going off my self."

"You were?" The thought of Thorin doing _that_ added a blush to Bilbo's smile and he risked looking into those blue eyes and he saw nothing but care in them. He was safe with Thorin, just as he had always been since the first day they met.

"Yeah, of course I was. I mean...that was...I don't even know! But it was pretty great. I've never ever felt anything like that with someone else."

"You haven't?"

"No. Never." Thorin ran his hand up into Bilbo's hair, the messy curls as silky as ever. "That was the first time."

Bilbo laid his hands flat on Thorin's chest, "That was my first time, and it was with you." He laid his head on Thorin's shoulder and snuggled in. And Thorin held him, this boy...this smart, funny, slightly strange, but unbelievably brave boy. He had just gone farther with this boy than he had with any girl and it had all felt so _right_. He knew that not everyone would see it that way, that what they shared they would have to keep to themselves, no matter how badly he wanted to tell the world about what he'd found that night, in the back seat of his cousin's Chevy. He pressed a kiss to Bilbo's forehead and right there and then made a solemn vow, to whoever was up above and listening, that this boy's life was now his and vice versa and there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect him. And no one could stop them. "Hey," he eventually whispered, "I should probably get you home."

"Hmmm?" Bilbo blinked his eyes sleepily and Thorin chuckled.

"I mean, I don't mind being your bed, but I think you'd be more comfortable in a real one."

Bilbo rubbed at his eyes and wiggled his nose, "I'm not so sure about that."

Thorin laughed, "I'm pretty sure your bed doesn't snore."

Bilbo nodded, "I see your point." He climbed off Thorin's lap, but was reminded of what he had cooling on his skin, inside his underwear. "Ummm..." he started awkwardly.

"Yeah? What do you need...Oh." Thorin followed the direction Bilbo's eyes were focused in and found himself staring at the boy's crotch.

"I just need a second to clean myself up."

"Yeah," Thorin tore his eyes away from the last place he should be staring at and nodded, "Sure. I'll just...I'll get in the front and then you can..." and he waved his hand in the air in the general direction of Bilbo's lap. The boy laughed.

Thorin climbed back into the front seat and started the engine. Now that he no longer was in actual bodily contact with Bilbo, he realized it had gotten a bit chilly in the car. And since the Bel Air still needed to warm up a bit before he could turn on the heater, he looked back over the seat to let Bilbo know he could use the plaid blanket Dís had left there. And he did this just in time to see Bilbo, with his zipper down and his face screwed up, about to attend to the problem in his underwear, the red bandana in his hand. Bilbo felt eyes on him and looked up.

"Don't look!" he scolded, quickly reaching for the blanket that was beside him, on the floor of the car.

"Oh...sorry." Thorin turned back around and stared out of the front windshield. "Although," he couldn't help chuckling at the thought, 'It's not like you didn't just jizz in my lap."

"I really don't need a... _dammit_ " Bilbo grumbled from under the blanket. "Having an...incident...in my pants and you seeing...I'm just not ready for that yet."

"Don't worry, I get it." Thorin peaked a look in the rear-view mirror in time to see Bilbo emerge from under the blanket, his trousers zippered back up and the now very soiled red bandana shoved in his front pocket. Bilbo sat up and propped his head on the back of the front seat.

"Sorry for snapping at you...this whole thing has just been kind of a shock for me."

Thorin looked at him, their faces only inches apart. "Not just for you."

Bilbo's cheeks burned and he picked at the upholstery stitching, "Sorry. I seem to have forgotten that part. I've always assumed that you've done just about everything."

Thorin stilled the picking fingers and entwined them with his own. "Who, me? Who sold you that load?"

Bilbo merely raised an eyebrow.

"I never..." Thorin tried to play innocent, but he knew Bilbo knew it was all b.s. "Fine, you win this one. Now, get your ass up here and let's blow this scene."

"Alright," Bilbo agreed and kissed him on the cheek before high-tailing it into the front seat. Slipping back into his burgundy corduroy jacket, he dug his glasses out of the pocket. With them back on, he could make out every detail of the man behind the steering wheel....the unbelievably handsome man who was now his.

"Ahhh...there you are! It's nice to be able to see you again." Bilbo slid all of the way over until their legs touched.

"No distracting the driver, o.k.?" Thorin warned, absolutely loving the feel of the boy's warm body at his side. "The last thing we need is to be pulled over."

Bilbo nodded, understanding, "I wouldn't dream of it."

And the boys shared one last look, and one last kiss, before Thorin put the car in reverse and, swinging the Chevy around, left the place where they had finally uncovered the truth of who they were and, together, they drove through the dark streets of Pasadena as something wholly new and wonderful.

++++++++

The streets leading to Acorn Lane were quiet with very few cars sharing the road and not a single cop in sight. Thorin felt confident enough to throw his arm around Bilbo's shoulders, and they stayed like that, each of them never before so comfortable in anyone's presence as they were with each other. Soon enough, they were pulling up in front of the ornate gate and the overgrown hedge and the lit up plaque that read _2941 Acorn Lane_. Thorin turned off the engine and, in the quiet, suddenly felt as anxious as he had earlier that night, when he had first laid eyes on the house.

"I don't want to let you go." he finally said, taking Bilbo's hand in his.

"It's just for tonight. I'll see you in the morning, won't I?" Bilbo's smaller fingers played with Thorin's larger ones.

"That's right," Thorin relaxed some, their plans for the next day having been buried under all of that kissing. "Can I pick you up around 11?"

"11 is perfect. I'll be ready and waiting." Bilbo pressed Thorin's palm to his lips. He had a question he wanted an answer for. "Thorin..."

"Yeah?" Thorin was leaning in, gently rubbing Bilbo's temple with the tip of his nose.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend?"

Thorin sat up and looked at Bilbo, at the hope in his eyes, sparkling green by the light of the streetlamp. He smiled, "I think it does. Whadda ya say, Bilbo? You wanna go steady?"

Tears prickled at the corner of Bilbo's eyes, "I'd love to! I'd love to be your boyfriend!" He threw his arms around Thorin and risked a kiss. The chance that anyone, besides raccoons and stray tom-cats, was out at this hour was slim, but it was still a chance they shouldn't risk.

Thorin stroaked Bilbo's face with his thumb, "I don't have anything with me to give you."

"What do you mean?"

"You know, to show we're serious about one another."

Bilbo giggled, "Thorin...do you want to pin me?"

It only took Thorin a second for the double meaning in Bilbo's question to register and he blushed something awful, "Yeah...you know...with a pin...or something."

"I know," Bilbo bit his lower lip and patted Thorin's leg. "How about tomorrow we both have something."

"That won't work, Dís will be with us."

"Oh, that's right. Well, I suppose Wednesday is the next chance we'll have."

Thorin wondered just how much hot water he'd get into at the garage if he took Monday afternoon off. He really didn't want to wait, but there was no way Bif would let him have it off on such short notice and without a hundred questions as to why. He sighed heavily. "That's so far from now."

Bilbo nodded, just as anxious as Thorin for this thing to happen, "I know. Thorin, you know this isn't going to be easy."

Yeah," Thorin played with the top button of Bilbo's shirt, "but my papa always said that if it's a cinch to get it's not really worth having."

"Your papa was a wise man." Bilbo squeezed Thorin's hand.

"The wisest."

"Alright, Wednesday it is, then."

Thorin took a good long, hard look at Bilbo, "You know what? I think I love somebody."

Bilbo's heart trilled. "Really?" His smile melted away from the heat he saw in Thorin's eyes.

Thorin nodded. "Yeah."

Bilbo swallowed hard, "I think I love somebody, too. And it was easy. Maybe we'll be the lucky ones."

And they kissed. And because neither one of them knew how long it would be until the next one, they made it count...witnesses be damned! That is, until a car rumbled by on a cross street and they leapt apart like two little boys having been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Thorin took Bilbo's hand and read the time on his wristwatch.

"It's 1 a.m. I think you better go inside and get some sleep."

Bilbo nodded, although sleep, he knew, was not going to come to him easily. "You too." He chuckled, "Don't want you to be Mr. Crabapple tomorrow. Sleep well."

"I will," Thorin's heart ached as he watched Bilbo slide away from him towards the passenger side door. "I'll be thinking about you."

Bilbo looked at him one last time, "Good night, Thorin." and he got out of the car, closing the door solidly behind him.

Thorin watched the boy let himself in the cast-iron gate and walk to the brightly lit front door. And he watched as Bilbo turned and quickly raised his hand before disappearing inside the house. He sat there, his eyes on the royal blue door. On the other side of that door was a whole other world, a world that Bilbo belonged to. He couldn't wait to get a glimpse inside, to know more about the boy who now had a hard grip on his heart. Finally, he started the car and drove home. He didn't remember much of the drive, except at one point, just a couple of blocks from home, a song came on the radio...

_Some quiet evening, I sit by your side_

_And we're lost in a world of our own._

_I feel the glow of your arms open love_

_I'm aware of the treasure that I hold._

_And I say to myself "It's wonderful, wonderful_

_Oh, so wonderful, my love."_

He found himself singing along (it was one of mama's favorites), but this time it held a different meaning, a much more personal meaning, and he couldn't help grinning like a fool.

 __

 _And I say to myself "It's wonderful, wonderful_

_Oh, so wonderful, my love."_

++++++++

Bilbo hummed along to the _Moonlight Serenade_ , floating out of the radio Maria Ellena kept in the laundry room, as he rinsed soap and what was left of himself out of Thorin's bandana. He had already finished washing out his underpants in the big sink and he was anxious to be done so he could make himself a cup of chamomile tea and, hopefully, get some sleep. Although, he wondered if that was going to be at all possible, even with tea. And considering he felt as if he were still walking through a dream, he wondered if it even mattered.

"Perhaps all of this was a dream," he pondered, as he wrung the bandana out a final time, "and I'm in bed, right now, sound asleep." But if this had all been a dream, then it was the most elaborate dream he'd ever had. His chin still tingled from the Noxzema he had rubbed on it to soothe the rash-like burn he had finally taken notice of as he'd brushed his teeth. The face staring back at him in his bathroom mirror had looked different to him, slightly different than the one he'd seen just before Thorin had arrived to pick him up. Besides the red, raw chin, his lips looked fuller, slightly swollen, from when Thorin had held them between his teeth. And his eyes...his eyes seemed different to him and he blamed that on all they had seen (albeit through a slightly hazy filter). They had seen the look in Thorin's eyes when he had used Natalie Wood's words from the movie to tell Bilbo that he loved him. And Bilbo had said them back and he had meant them, every word. No, he most definitely was not the same person he had been when he had walked out his front door.

_When you wish upon a star_

_Makes no difference who you are_

_Anything your heart desires_

_Will come to you_

A cricket was crooning about wishes and stars and Bilbo stopped and listened. It was true...it didn't matter who you were or what it was your heart desired...dreams _do_ come true. And he rolled his clean, wet things up in a towel. No, it hadn't been a dream. None of it. He returned the laundry soap and scrub brush back to where he found them, and was about to turn off the radio, but he stayed his hand and listened to the rest of the song.

_Like a bolt out of the blue_

_Fate steps in and sees you through_

_When you wish upon a star_

_Your dreams come true_

Perhaps he was being a romantic fool. Maybe the cold light of day, and regret, will show this evening for what it truly was. But for now, Bilbo was more than happy to believe in his dreams coming true; that there was someone for him, someone who loved him and for him to love in return. As the song finished, he switched off the radio, collected his bundle, and turned out the light.

+

Thorin had stood in the middle of his room and, for a moment, been confused. It was as he had left it, everything in its slightly disheveled place, but it no longer seemed like his. He stood in a boy's room, what with the pictures of cars and Brando in his _The Wild One_ get-up he had ripped out of magazines and taped to the wall. There was even a framed picture of him as a boy, with papa and Frerin, captured at a Bruins/Trojans game at old Sawtelle Field. It sat on his well-used oak desk amidst the clutter of school books and his old Little League trophy. He couldn't find a damn thing that was wrong, but none of it was right. And it was all because he had left home that night a boy and come home a man...a man in love. He had even admitted as much to Bilbo and the boy...no...wait...not a boy...Thorin smiled, his heart thumping heavily in his chest at the memory of his confession in the car and Bilbo...his _boyfriend_...had confessed as well. He was IN LOVE! That Bilbo was another man meant absolutely nothing to him. If the world didn't like it...well...screw the world! No one could ever convince him, never in a million years, that what he and Bilbo had, what had felt so _right_ , was wrong.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day. Going to be? It had already come. The clock on his nightstand said it was 1:45 a.m. And he had to be at Bilbo's at 11...that didn't leave much time for sleeping and getting ready. He opened his closet door and James Dean was there, pinned to the inside, looking like he hadn't a care for a damn thing. But he had cared, deeper than any one ever would've expected. Thorin had always admired that about him and now he knew why. When you're tough on the outside, you can protect that thing you care deeply about, that thing you love. He could still taste Bilbo's candy-sweet mouth and feel those soft petal-like lips on his. Closing his eyes, the memory tickled at every nerve ending. He was breathing heavily when his body let him know there was something he had to take care of, and the sooner the better. He really needed to get some sleep.

The bathroom mirror was beginning to fog up when he caught sight of himself in it. He looked like himself, but it's not what's on the outside that counts, isn't that right? No, he was all changed on the _inside,_ , except...he tilted his head to the right and there, in livid purple, was the hickey his man had given him. Would anyone believe that Bilbo was capable of that? No...not little Bilbo, what with the glee club and his straight A's...no one would believe that the mere memory of his kisses had left Thorin, standing naked in the bathroom, harder than last week's calculus homework. He stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over his back and then over his shoulders and down his chest to his stomach. It felt so good. And he took himself in hand. He knew it wouldn't take long. Just the memory of Bilbo moaning his name into his ear, their groins pressed tightly together, was really all it took and Thorin rested his forehead against the cold tiles of the shower as his release spilled out over his hand. Sucking in a ragged lungful, he let the water wash him away, down the drain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songwriting Credits**  
>  _Catch a Falling Star_  
>  Paul Vance and Lee Pockriss, 1957
> 
>  _Wonderful! Wonderful!_  
>  Sherman Edwards and Ben Raleigh, 1957
> 
>  _When You Wish Upon a Star_  
>  Leigh Harline and Ned Washington, 1940
> 
>  **Screenwriting Credit**  
>  _Rebel Without a Cause_  
>  Stewart Stern, screenplay, 1955
> 
> SMOKING IS BAD FOR YOU! But...I don't think it's any secret that EVERYBODY smoked in the fifties. Well, not EVERYBODY, but a lot of people did. And it wouldn't be any surprise that Thorin would as well (Lucky Strikes, the brand his dad smoked). 
> 
> The baseball game Thorin's dad would've taken his boys to would've been between long-standing Southern California rivals UCLA and USC. My grandfather was a UCLA man and so I have an irrational "boo! hiss!" reaction to USC. I wanted to send them to a Dodgers game, but the Dodgers were still in Brooklyn until 1958. My notes have Thrain and Frerin being killed in an automobile accident in 1953.
> 
>  _2941 Acorn Lane_ has a [tumblr](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/). And, of course, all regularly scheduled Bagginshield feels happen at my regular tumblr [bofursunboundbraids](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/uIvaqfU)
> 
> At last we come to the _beginning_ of our tale. It's a beautiful fall morning in sunny Southern California. And, if you were to ask Bilbo Baggins - high school junior and recent transplant from San Francisco - he'd tell you things were beginning to look up. That is, until he notices a pair of blue eyes looking right back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at the beginning! Or, rather, 6 weeks previous to the exciting developments of the preceding chapter. It is, for all intents and purposes, the day the boys meet.
> 
> All things considered, I would stick this particular chapter somewhere between a "T" and "M" because it contains a scene of bullying in which expletives as well as homophobic and anti-semitic slurs are used. For those sensitive to this kind of material, please take care.

**Tuesday, September 23, 1958**

Bilbo blinked the sun out of his eyes and took a deep breath. He was killing time before class and enjoying the feeling of just _being_ , on this Southern California morning in late September. The air was warm and smelled like earth and blue sky and the leaves on the trees, green and slightly spicy. In that moment he believed that, perhaps, the worst was behind him; the awkwardness and anxious fear of being in a new place was finally lessening. Which, he figured with his practical, Baggins brain, was about damn time. It was, after all, the fourth week of school, so he should be good and settled in. And he'd turned 17 just the day before, which meant it was high time to give up on such childish fears as "What if I never fit in?". With only two years left until graduation, making friends at his new school was not a make-it-or-break-it proposition. School work and grades came first and then, before he would have even realized it, he'd be off to college...off to UC Berkeley...and home.

Taking a look at his wristwatch, he rolled back and forth on his feet, from heel to toes and back, so as to stretch the stiff leather of his new penny loafers. They pinched here and there and he would jokingly tell someone that that was the only thing that felt different about being a year older.

If anyone happened to ask, that is.

He certainly hadn't gotten any taller, but he had already come to terms with the fact that he was to never _literally_ rise above his forebears. Well, at least his birthday had been enjoyable. Besides the shoes, mom had given him a journal bound in crimson leather and an emerald green Montblanc pen. There had also been a new jazz album. The title? "San Francisco Moods". That had most definitely not been lost on him; after having moved to Pasadena exactly 2 months and 2 weeks before, Bilbo was more than a little homesick.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart", mom had said.

"Don't be sorry, mom. Never be sorry, o.k?" he had assured her. And really, what could they have done differently? Mom was sick and could no longer take care of herself, her son, and the house, no matter how much Bilbo helped out. So, Bag End had been covered and closed up and they had moved south; to Grandma Took's big old Spanish Colonial, hidden away behind hedges, trees, and a gate, on shady, tree-lined Acorn Lane. And there they would stay...he would stay...until graduation. Mom would often remind him that the big house in Pacific Heights was waiting for him, waiting for it to be his turn to make it a home.

"Come now, my pets, no tears," Grandma had cooed just as Maria Ellena had come into the room, singing, carrying a young man's birthday cake topped with gaily burning candles that were waiting to bestow a wish in exchange for a blustery kiss. Bilbo's hadn't been a hard and certain wish, more amorphous and gauzy...something along the lines of "no more pain for mom and happiness for me". And, it scared him to consider, the first would go far to help ensure the second.

Ah, but back to the wristwatch...there were ten minutes left until he had to be in class. Ten minutes to soak up some more sun and breathe in the clean, hot breeze that came down from the San Gabriels. Ten minutes to look about at the other kids, all bright and cheerful, each a strand of the tapestry, woven together tightly, telling the story of what it meant to be young in that place. In that time.

An obnoxiously loud bray of a laugh caught his attention and he directed his gaze to the source; gathered around a bench, under a tall shade tree, was a small group, more like a gang, of four boys. They looked tough with their leather jackets and dungarees, the cuffs rolled up over heavy black boots. One of the boys, an animated sort wearing a woolen hunter's cap in an unfortunate brown plaid, was entertaining his peers with a story that Bilbo couldn't quite hear. The others were laughing out loud, offering, no doubt, ribald opinions and altogether making themselves quite conspicuous. Bilbo watched, fascinated by this display of brash male adolescence. He wondered at the kind of confidence it would take to be like that...to be one of those strands in that tapestry...the ones that shone brighter and bolder than the others...the ones no one would dare pluck out.

Sitting on the bench, surrounded by the others, a bit more subdued than the others, was the one Bilbo would guess (again if anyone asked him) to be the leader of the gang; the others seemed to orbit around him, like satellites around a hot and brilliant star. He had noticed him before, here and there on campus and that was not surprising for the boy was striking. Tall and dark, he wore his black hair slicked up in a tall, glossy wave. He had a magnificent profile, from his noble brow and prominent nose to a strong, bearded jaw. One almost never saw a bearded face and to see one on a boy still in high school, well, that was worth taking a look at. Bilbo subconsciously raised his hand to his own soft, hairless cheek. He couldn't grow a beard if his life depended on it. Not that he wanted to, but it is nicer to have options, after all.

Yeah...Bilbo had noticed him before. And if someone had asked him, right then and there, the word he would've used would've been _majestic_. Like the faces one sees in oil paintings of noblemen and kings done by the Old Masters. Yes, a king, with eyes so bright and piercingly blue that he could make them out, even from forty feet away, under a late September sun. Gloriously blue eyes that were looking _right at him_.

+

"So then she said, 'well, my parents aren't due home until midnight.'"

"Well lookie who got an out-n'-out invitation! So, uh..." Nori leaned forward, his arms resting on the back of the bench, and winked at Bofur, "did you hit a home run?"

Before the behatted lad could answer his friend's burning question, Dwalin, the roughest looking one of the bunch, laughed out loud, sounding as if he'd swallowed a donkey, "RIGHT! Our little Bofur?" He caught the almost comically crestfallen look on his buddy's face, "Come on...you know you thanked her for a lovely evening, kissed her on the cheek, and high-tailed it out of there."

"Awww...why do you always have to give away the ending, _me ol' chum_? Just call me," Bofur plucked his hat off his head and pressed it to his heart, "the last of the red-hot gentlemen."

Thorin laughed at his friend's story of opportunity lost...or trouble averted...depending on how you looked at it. He had actually heard all of this from Bofur's cousin, Bifur. The kid was the kind of charmer that almost any girl would fall for - and many did - but the truth was that he was all talk and honestly the last person any of them would expect to get a girl, and himself, in trouble.

The jabbering continued and Thorin let his gaze wander across campus. It was a real nice day; already hot, not a cloud in the sky...the perfect day for jumping on the bike and going, anywhere and everywhere, preferably somewhere everyone else wasn't. If he could, he'd be on his bike right now...headed off on Route 66, or down to Baja, or even better than that, Yosemite. He imagined himself sitting on the edge of a cliff, up high, above it all, looking down, a couple of cold beers at hand...that sounded much better than trying to stay awake through Major British Writers (Major Dead Old White Guys was what they should call that class, a real snooze fest). He continued looking...but not really looking...until he realized he was looking at someone who was looking back.

The kid was watching him and his pals like they were animals at the zoo, as if they were some rare species he had never seen before with his own eyes. Thorin's first impulse, normally, would've been to yell out, "come closer, get a better look, we won't bite", but for some reason he didn't want to scare the kid away. He'd seen him here and there, since the school year had started; a new face at PHS. Thorin figured him for a freshman on account of his being short and baby-faced and a square what with the sweater vest, leather school bag, and the trousers his mama probably pressed for him every morning. And he wore his hair in a mess of dirty blonde curls that fell over his forehead and into his eyes; not buzzed or greased back. "Who is this kid?" Thorin wondered while trying not to wonder why he was wondering. Awww...no one but some goody two-shoes mama's boy with a curious streak a mile long.

And Thorin kept on looking.

+

The last thing he wanted to do was look away, but getting caught looking at someone was never a good idea. And a boy like that boy...he was sure to call Bilbo out on it. And when a boy like that calls you out because he caught you looking, well, that means you have to deal with him _and_ his friends. And that big one with the scars and the horsey laugh...he was the last person Bilbo wanted to have to deal with. He needed to get out of there so, after making a show of looking at his watch, he hoisted his bag higher on his shoulder and turned in the direction of his class only to run full-body into a girl.

"Hey, watch where you're going, huh?" The girl complained, understandably annoyed.

"Sorry...s-s-so sorry...are you o.k.?" Bilbo asked, deeply embarrassed as the color rose high in his cheeks.

"Yeah, I'm fine, what about..." But before the girl could ask how he was, Bilbo was hurrying off in the direction of his trig class, all the while scolding himself for making such a spectacle right there in the middle of campus.

(Was that boy watching?)

_Damn_! The day had started out so well, but right now all he wanted was for a genie-in-a-bottle to grant his dearest wish and make him invisible.

+

Thorin visibly cringed. That poor schmuck...he had to give the kid credit for his little performance with the watch, anyone else would've bolted the moment they realized they were lock-eyed with him. But then to go and run smack into, of all people, Thorin's kid sister, Dís...that was a real heartbreaker. He watched the kid cross the quad as he stood up and whistled shrilly through his teeth.

"Yo! Dís!"

The girl immediately locked in on her older brother and met him half-way.

"Hey bro!"

Thorin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his sister. He towered over her, thowing her completely under his shade. "What was that all about?" He asked, gesturing in the direction the kid had disappeared in.

"Oh, nothing," Dís shook her head, "just some guy not paying attention. Why? Gonna sick your thugs on him?" She looked around Thorin to where his friends still crowded around the bench.

"No...just wondering, is all. As long as he wasn't trying to get fresh with you."

Dís snickered, "Who? That guy? I don't think he'd know the meaning of the word."

"Yeah." Thorin nodded, oddly aware that his cool right now was feeling as much of an act as the one that kid had put on.

The warning bell rang.

"Go on, little girl," Thorin turned away and began to make his way back to his friends with his long-legged strut. He was going to play this scene to the hilt, "You don't want to be late."

"Same goes for you. Just cuz you're a senior now doesn't mean you can cut class whenever." Dís shouted after him.

Thorin waved his hand in the air without looking back, "Don't I know it."

++++++++

Bilbo closed the door on his locker and spun the combination lock. The day was done and he had emerged relatively unscathed, all things considered. Perhaps the Fates had decided pity was in order or, even better, he had been delivered his genie wish after all. He was still going to have to cook up a fib to tell his mom when she asked him how his day went. He'd tell her it was "Fine, mom, just fine!" as he grabbed a Nesbitt's Strawberry from the fridge and kicked his shoes off his blistered feet before settling down at the kitchen table to do his homework. It was a fib because it really hadn't been all that _fine_. It'd been _o.k._ , but that word wasn't good enough. Not when he was trying to paint for his mother a picture of a happy high school experience, the kind adults like to reminisce about to give kids the illusion that these will be the best years of their lives. Bilbo had always half-listened to those grandiose tales told by uncles who had been football and track stars back in their glory days while full-heartedly praying to god that there was more to life than that.

After double-checking his wallet for his bus pass (right where it always was, in the front window, his school i.d. tucked behind it) he turned to make his way across an almost deserted campus. He had decided earlier to wait for a later bus so as to spare himself a hot, sweaty, sardine-can ride home, pressed up against fellow students. A short half-hour spent amongst the stacks in the library would later mean a bus seat all to himself, by an open window. He had called home right away to let mom know he'd be a little late. She'd sounded well and rested, almost like the way she had before she'd gotten sick. He had smiled as she'd told him to enjoy his time in the library and to be careful out there in the world. That last had made him laugh and he reminded her that it "isn't the world, mom, it's only Pasadena."

Later, he would wonder how he never once noticed there were bodies behind him until it was too late. But they were there. Two of them. The taller of the two grinned his yellowy-green, broken-toothed grin at the shorter and slapped him on the arm with the back of his hand as if to say, "Watch this!". Creeping up silently behind Bilbo, he reached out and flicked at the back of the unsuspecting boy's head.

"What..." Bilbo instantly raised a hand to the back of his head and turned around to find two boys standing there, grinning cruelly at him.

"Hi." The taller said as he chuckled stupidly.

"Hello," Bilbo answered, plainly, lowering his hand. This boy seemed a bit too old for the distinction, but Bilbo hardly thought him worthy of the title "man". This...person...was at least a head taller than him with a shock of white hair on his head and an ugly scar that ran from right below his left eye socket to his jawline. It was deep and jagged as if it hadn't been allowed to heal properly. Bilbo tossed a glance at the shorter. Him he had seen, here and there on campus, but their paths had never crossed before. He was merely a shorter version of the taller, but his scar started in the middle of his forehead and went back up over his head leaving him with an unnatural part in his hair.

"What's your name?" The taller, older one asked and Bilbo thought he heard a tinge of a threat in the question.

"Bilbo," And for the first time in his sheltered and well-cared for life he wondered if this was how real trouble started. "What's yours?"

"Hey Bolg," the taller called to the shorter, "This kid's name is Bilbo."

The shorter one named Bolg snickered. "Sounds like a sissy name, Zog." He said, his S's dragging through the gap where his top two front teeth were missing, which gave him the appearance of having fangs. Taking a step forward, Bolg swiped a hand out, forcing Bilbo to take a couple of steps back. It was then that he noticed they had maneuvered him back into an alcove between the banks of lockers and the only way out was through them.

"A sissy name for a sissy boy." Azog sneered, taking a closer step himself. "You know, I spent some time at a place where the pretty little sissy boys like you are real popular. Yeah, they'd like you a lot there."

Bilbo stood, frozen, his brain struggling to find an out and at the same time trying really hard not to panic. He'd been called names before, mostly by kids on the street, but no one at PHS had said as much as an unkind word to him. He decided to start with the most direct approach to get himself out of this.

"Nice meeting you, but I really need to get home." He made a move forward, but both boys crowded in around him.

Bolg smacked a fist into his other hand. "I don't think this little fruit wants to talk to us Zog."

"Why not?" Azog stuck his hands in the pockets of his dirty, white jacket. He made a show of fumbling with something in the right pocket. "Think you're better than us, you faggy little four-eyes?"

Bilbo reluctantly pulled his eyes away from the pocket for he was terribly concerned about whatever it was the cretin kept in it, and shook his head, "No...no of course not...I just need to get home."

"Awww, did you hear that?" Azog asked, feigning a simpering, babyish voice "The faggy fruit fairy needs to get home to his mommy. Hey, Bolg, why don't we fly away home with the fairy...maybe his mommy will have milk and cookies for us if we're good, _good_ boys." Azog looked Bilbo in the eye the whole time and pursed his lips in emphasis. His meaning was not lost on Bilbo and it absolutely sickened him.

"Don't you dare, ever, speak about my mother that way." Bilbo warned through gritted teeth. He could handle cruel names, but like hell he was going to listen to talk like that about mom, even if he ended up with a black eye. He drew himself up in his new penny loafers, his hands clenched into tight fists. The last time he'd gotten into a fight, he'd been twelve and it had ended with him and his opponent both tired and dirty and in tears. Today's outcome would be much different, his survival not an automatic given.

This show of bravado on Bilbo's part merely earned him a rousing chorus of exaggerated, knee-slapping bellows of laughter which grated on every one of his nerves. Thoroughly fed up with the whole situation, he decided he would just leave and attempted to get past the two delinquents. No sooner had he taken a step past them than Azog rounded on him and pushed him back into the alcove. "Now, that's rude, little fairy _faggot_. We were only trying to make friends. And now you've hurt me and my little brother's feelings. That," Azog pulled his fist out of his pocket with something Bilbo could not make out concealed within it, "makes me mad. Maybe if you weren't so pretty you'd be a whole lot friendlier."

Bilbo refused to close his eyes as the boys came closer.

+

"Do you think she has to re-inflate them every morning?" Nori asked, staring at the picture of Jayne Mansfield Bofur had taped up in his locker.

"I don't know...I like lookin' at 'em, but I can't imagine being a chick and having to cart those babies around all day long, everyday. You know?" Bofur grabbed his Trig book before slamming the locker door shut.

"That's why they wear brassieres, numbskull." Nori gave Bofur a soft jab on the arm.

"Like he knows anything about those," Dwalin snorted.

"Just because Sherilyn let you put your hand under her shirt, you think you know everything."

Thorin slapped his arm down, around his friend's shoulders, "Never forget, Bofur, those who have to brag are only selling hot air."

"You wish it were only hot air." Dwalin fell in beside his cousin and life-long best friend. "Your jealousy is gettin' ugly, Durin."

"What's to be jealous of." Thorin explained with a shrug, "I told you I don't want to just settle on anyone. And all I've ever come across are _anyones_."

Nori laughed, "Maybe he's waiting for a rack like Mansfield's to come across his plate."

"It'd have to be a rack with a V-8 behind it." Bofur knew his friend too well.

The guys all laughed as they walked down the row of lockers on their way to the parking lot. They had stayed after the final bell in last period Auto Shop to finish installing the new fuel tank on the '39 Ford Woody. It was actually more like Thorin had worked on it while the others offered moral support. But, no matter how badly Thorin wanted to get this car up and running, he had to at least make an effort to show up to work on time. Bifur was a great guy and an understanding boss, but he did have a garage to run. It was then, high above his friends' lively chatter, he heard a loud voice, angry but also scared, coming from the end of the row of lockers. It was followed by harsh laughter. The four friends stopped and listened.

"What the hell?" Nori whispered.

"Come on," Thorin gestured forward and they quietly crept closer to the place the voices were coming from. Peaking around the corner of the alcove, Thorin spied a couple of lugs he knew to be the Gundabad brothers. Local boys with a notorious reputation. Criminals since birth. And it appeared to Thorin that they were getting ready to give some poor kid a real beat down. He stood in the middle of the alcove entrance, with his buddies spread out behind him and whistled loudly.

Azog and Bolg jerked around to face the newcomers.

"Well, well...if it isn't the Frick and Frack of the Juvenile Justice System." Thorin stood, rooted to the ground, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Did they finally get sick of your ugly mug up at Preston, Azog?"

Azog gave Thorin a big, oily smile. "I am a rehabilitated member of society, Durin. Free to walk the streets."

"That's a scary thought." Bofur interjected.

Thorin took a step closer. "I don't know if you know this, Bolg, but school is out for the day. Why don't you put your Rottweiler back on its leash and go take it for a walk."

"Yeah, like on the freeway or something." Nori's suggestion was met with the guys' unanimous approval.

Azog returned whatever it was he had clutched in his hand to his pocket and raised both of them in a show of innocence. "Now, is that how you to talk to someone who paid their debt to society?"

The guys couldn't help but laugh at Azog's ridiculousness. "How was any debt possibly paid?" Thorin wondered and that was when he saw him, the kid from that morning, all but pushed back against the wall; blonde curls, glasses, but now, instead of curious, he looked angry and scared...no...scratch that...he looked pissed off and terrified. His was the voice they had heard, raised and defiant. For a moment their eyes locked. Thorin smiled at the kid and saw a smidgen of the terror fade from his eyes.

"It's going to take more than a few years at some J.D. finishing school for you to pay off your debt, Gundabad." Thorin taunted,

"I heard they denied your Daddy parole," Dwalin jumped in, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Thorin, "Maybe you two need to go bunk with him for awhile. I hear Q is real nice this time of year."

"You know what, Dwalin," Azog strained forward as if an invisible chain held him back, "You can go fuck yourself, you fuckin' kike! You too, Thorin! All of you can just..."

Dwalin jumped forward, bound by his own imaginary chain, "What the fuck did you say? Go on! Say it again, Gundabad, I dare you!"

"You heard him!" Bolg popped out from where he was hiding behind his brother. "Looks to me like ol' Adolph missed a few." He looked up at Azog, proud as punch of his jab only to get "shut UP!" hissed at him and an elbow to knock him back into place.

Thorin pulled his hand out of his jacket pocket. In it was a switchblade, long and shining.

"If you walk away now, I'm going to pretend I didn't here any of that." Thorin's voice had gone real low and cold and hard as ice. "Just walk away."

Azog stood there, his body vibrating with barely contained violence, his hand hovering just outside the pocket containing the unknown object. "I'm not scared of you, Durin."

"But I think you are. I think both of you are a second away from pissing yourselves. So please, do us all a favor and get the fuck out of here. I don't want to see your ugly mug here ever again, Azog. Got it?" And Thorin stepped out of the way to give the brothers space to get by. The guys followed suit and the Gundabad brothers, knowing that to engage them would be tantamount to a sort of suicide, gave up and walked away, leaving their intended victim behind without a backward glance.

Thorin watched the brothers until they disappeared from view before turning to the kid. He was beet-red and shaking, trying to clean his glasses with unseeing eyes.

"Are you o.k.?" Thorin asked, keeping his voice low and gentle. Bilbo refused to look at him and merely nodded.

"What were they saying to you?" Dwalin barged in, standing next to Thorin, his arms folded across his barrel chest.

"Why do you want to know? So you can pick up where they left off?" Bilbo lashed out, his rage blind, his words hard and bitter. Somewhere, deep inside of him he knew he was being unfair, that these boys had come along at just the right time...had saved him... _he_ had saved him, the boy from that morning. The king...with the shining blade in his hand...coming to the rescue of the meek and helpless. He felt the burn of bile at the back of his throat.

Nori stepped up, "What the fuck are you..."

"I know guys like you!" Bilbo shouted, his words barely making any sense to him. He looked wildly from one bewildered pair of eyes to the next before stopping at blue eyes that held only sympathy. And that was when the shame hit him like a storm front.

"You're a fucking liar because you don't know shit about guys like us!" Dwalin fired back, thoroughly pissed off by this little shit's lack of gratitude.

Thorin laid a hand on Dwalin which, Bilbo noticed, seemed to act like a magic charm, as if a plug had been pulled on this guy's anger and he instantly deflated. The king was shaking his head, "I don't know what's happened to you, but we're nothing like that...or them." He gestured in the direction Azog and Bolg had skulked off in. "It just looked like you could use a hand, that's all. I don't like creeps like Azog giving folks a bad time...not on my turf."

Bilbo put his glasses back on. "Your turf" he mouthed and smiled sardonically. He made a production of straightening his sweater vest, "I'm glad I could be your good samaritan deed for the day. I'm sure it will give you plenty to laugh over later. Now, if you will excuse me..." And, without another word and his head held high, Bilbo walked right on by them, his only goal at the present being to get to the bus stop without running and with the tears that threatened kept in check.

"Ya could at least said _thanks_ , you ungrateful little...!" Dwalin shouted at Bilbo's retreating form.

Thorin slugged his best friend on the arm. "Come on...poor kid's had it hard enough today."

"Well," Dwalin looked sheepishly at the toes of his thick, black boots, "He could've at least said 'thank you'".

Thorin continued to watch the kid walk away...just to make sure..."Give him a break...He's probably wishing he never walked out his front door this morning."

"Hell yeah, Dwalin," Nori slapped his large friend on the back, "Don't you remember what it was like to be a 90 pound weakling?"

"I am going to _kick_ your ass one of these days, brother." Dwalin warned, but not without a smile.

"Come on, guys," Bofur called out, already getting a move on, "We're going to be late to the garage and Bif will blame it on me."

"Boo hoo!" Nori teased, rubbing imaginary tears from his eyes.

When he'd reached the corner of the building, Dwalin noticed Thorin hadn't moved. "Come on, bro. Bo's right, for a change, we're gonna be late."

Thorin was watching, but not really seeing anything; the kid had disappeared from view. He suddenly wished he had offered him a ride home on his bike. The guys could've offered up some excuse at work. Sure Bif would've been pissed, but the guy was an old softy as well as papa's old college buddy...he'd forgive Thrain's son this one time...that was for certain. He heard Dwalin holler for him. Running his hand through his hair, he put one foot in front of the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The album Bilbo gets for his birthday is [_San Francisco Moods_](https://youtu.be/eI908SIuli0) by famed Latin Jazz artist Cal Tjader. He was a San Francisco artist who performed in groups with Dave Brubeck, Paul Desmond, Stan Getz, and Vince Guaraldi (who is remembered today as the composer of the iconic "Peanuts" theme, [_Linus and Lucy_](https://youtu.be/x6zypc_LhnM)). If you've seen the recent Tim Burton film "Big Eyes", Mr. Tjader is the musician who is advertised playing the vibraphone in the club where Walter tries to sell Margaret's paintings. (I loved the film's recreation of late fifties San Francisco, most notably North Beach...the neighborhood famous for being the west coast home of the Beats. A character even makes mention of Six Gallery...the art space where Allen Ginsberg read his famous poem "Howl" for the first time in 1955.)
> 
> Azog has spent some time at Preston School of Industry, an infamous reform school in Ione, California. On the 1960's t.v. show "Dragnet", juvenile offenders are sometimes sentenced to do time there. The Travel Channel show "Ghost Adventures" did an episode there because it is reported to be haunted. The California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation closed the school in 2011.
> 
> It looks like Daddy Gundabad is doing time at the "Q" or San Quentin Prison for men. It is the only prison in the state of California with a death row. It's located in Marin County...just about a 10 minute drive from San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge. I used to work at a Barnes and Noble that was near the prison (I could see it from the receiving door). The man who stocked the prison library used to come in and buy books for it regularly.
> 
> J.D....tough guy talk for "Juvenile Delinquent"
> 
> Jayne Mansfield was a major sex symbol during the 1950's and one of the early Playboy Playmates. She was seen as an alternative to Marilyn Monroe ("the Working Man's Monroe"). She was tragically killed in a car wreck, just outside New Orleans, LA, at the age of 34 in 1967. 
> 
> I'm on TUMBLR! Got a fic-specific blog [here](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/) and my mostly Bagginshield but other things as well blog [here](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/).


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/jrF8Xts)
> 
> After a trying day at school, Bilbo has a talk with his mom. And he discovers that when you do the right thing, right things can happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. I got hit with a 3+ week bout of walking pneumonia which left me incapable of doing anything but cough. Thankfully it's gone and I've been able to return to the land of the living.
> 
> This chapter is very much rated "T"...no specific tags really stick out besides some explicit language, talk of impending parent death, and smoking.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to " _dearreader_ ", an actual PHS alumni who has shared some really awesome facts about the school and Pasadena in the fifties. I am eternally grateful!!!

Bilbo stood silent for a moment before knocking on the door with gentle raps.

"Mom?"

He strained to hear the powder soft voice muffled by the bedroom door.

"Come in."

Pushing down on the curved latch, Bilbo opened the door, slowly poking his head around it. Mom was sitting in her bed, a tiny wisp of a woman, propped up on a mountain of pillows. She laid the book she'd been reading down on the snowy white quilt that covered her.

"My sweetest heart." A smile broke out on her face and her green eyes lit up. She patted the edge of the bed beside her, "Come, sit beside your old mother."

Bilbo shook his head as he closed the door behind him. "You're not old, mom." he chuckled softly and took in a deep breath. The room smelled of the incense his mom burned, the kind she had sent from that tiny, fragrant store in Chinatown they used to visit. It almost did the job of masking the sickroom smell mom hated more than just about anything. Almost.

"So, what's going on with my boy who's not so much a boy anymore, is he?" Belladonna reached a hand out.

Bilbo settled down on the bed, next to his mom, her hand small and fragile in his. He brushed his fingers over the skin that had once been so smooth and warm and now was cool and paper thin. He wished more than anything that he didn't have to trouble her with this, his silly problem. And it was silly, with the hindsight the last few hours had offered. When one acts an ass there's really only one way to put it right. But, despite the wish that he could handle all his problems on his own, as the adult he wanted to fancy himself as, he still felt he needed a mother's wisdom. And as long as he still had her...

He was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on the hand he held, before scrunching up his face and sighing, "Something happened today, at school."

"Ahhh..." Bella had a feeling something had been amiss with her son when he had finally gotten home that afternoon. He had been unusually guarded when asked how his day was, merely mumbling that he was going to do his homework in his room as opposed to at the kitchen table. Dinner had been a quiet affair, with Grandmother Took asking if her grandson was feeling alright. Bilbo had assured everyone that he was fine, just tired and he had gone up to bed early, not even staying up to watch _The Rifleman_ and _Naked City_ on television. So, it came as no surprise to her that he sat with her now, wearing his yellow pajamas and the patchwork robe his Auntie Chica had made him the previous Christmas. "Pour yourself a cup of tea and tell me what happened."

Bilbo slid off the edge of his mother's bed and went to the rosewood sideboard which stood underneath the leaded glass windows. On it was a tea service; a dark blue cast iron teapot from Japan and a set of simple, hand-shaped cups Bella had made in a pottery-as-meditation class taught by an itinerant Zen priest not long after her husband had died. Bilbo picked up the pot and carefully poured the pale green liquid into a cup, the bright, grassy fragrance instantly soothing him...a gentle reminder of home. He took a sip.

"This tastes like your favorite matcha."

Bella smiled happily and nodded, "That's because it is. It just arrived in the mail today."

"Not from that shop on Geary?"

"Yes...isn't it wonderful? You know...if I close my eyes, I almost feel like we're still home."

Bilbo resumed his seat next to his mom and dragged a finger around the edge of the cup. "I wish we were."

Bella's heart ached as she reached over and rubbed her son's leg, "Tell me, sweetheart...what happened?"

Bilbo took a sip...and another. And then he said, "A couple of boys gave me a hard time."

"Were they boys from school?'

"One of them was...I've seen him before here and there...not in any of my classes. I think the other one was an older brother. I'd never seen him before."

A painful tension poured through Bella's body and she tried to sit up straighter. "What did they do?"

The memory of what had happened caused that same stifling blanket of shame he'd felt earlier to return and Bilbo could barely hear his own words as they fell out of his mouth. "They said things, well mostly the older one said things. Mean, ugly things, but...that's not really the problem."

"It's not?"

"No...no...the problem is there were these other boys...and they helped me."

"They did? Well, that's wonderful sweetheart!" Bella relaxed back into her pillows. There were good people in this world, after all.

"Yeah...I suppose so." Bilbo gave his mom a small smile. "They stepped in and chased the creeps off. They saved me, like real heroes come to my rescue." The smile melted away.

"Was this the problem? That these boys had to help you?"

"In a way...stupid isn't it? Sounds really stupid to me now. I don't understand why I acted the way I did."

"I'm sure you were upset..."

"I was rude to them." Bilbo cut his mom off, anger at himself building up inside. "I accused them of wanting to humiliate me more. Why would I do that? I didn't even thank them. I mean, who knows what would've happened if they hadn't come along." He felt tears begin to well in his eyes. _Jesus_ , that was the _last_ thing he wanted his mom to see.

"Oh, sweetheart, was it that bad?" Bella's hand still rested on her son's leg and in that moment she felt like she would never be able to let go of him, much less let him out of her sight, again.

Bilbo gave his mom timorous eyes and nodded. "Yes."

Bella wanted to cry. She wanted to jump out of that infernal bed, thank her mother for everything she'd done for them, and with her son drive as fast and as long as she could into the night until they were parked in front of that green door on Pacific Avenue. Until they were all they way back home. Nothing like this ever would've happened to Bilbo if they had stayed, she was certain of it. She swallowed hard and batted away the tears that threatened to fall. Right now she had to be the strength...the mom... he needed her to be. As long as she still could. "This boy, the one you recognize from school. Do you know his name?"

"Yes. I think I remember it."

"You don't have to say it now, but tomorrow I want you to tell me. Alright?"

Bilbo nodded, "O.k." he whispered.

"Now, it seems to me you still have a problem with some young men who helped you when you most needed it."

Again Bilbo nodded but this time without saying a word.

"Seems fairly simple to me, don't you think?"

Bilbo stared into his cup of tea. "I need to apologize for being a jerk and thank them for helping me."

Bella squeezed her boy's leg. "That's what I was thinking."

"And come what may." Bilbo screwed his face up into a wry pout.

"You don't think these boys are going to be mean to you?"

"No...but they weren't too happy with me, I remember. Except...the one...the nice one..." And Bilbo could see him, as clear as if he were in the room with them; Black hair and those blue, blue eyes that had been looking at him with a concern that matched what he had heard in the deep, warm voice. The boy (Thorin Durin...the nasty thing had known his name... _Thorin_ ) had looked at him... almost as if he were peering _into_ him. It had been almost more than Bilbo could handle...under that deep blue scrutiny...in front of those other boys. No wonder he bit and ran.

"There was a nice one?" Bella wanted to grasp onto anything that sounded hopeful.

"I think he was their leader too." Bilbo chuckled, "Sounds funny doesn't it? _The Leader of the Gang._ But he was trying to be nice. That I remember very well."

"Well, then, start with him and the others will follow his lead. See? You have nothing to worry about." ("Please!" Bella begged the universe, "Be good to my boy. He deserves more than to be the butt of someone else's joke. Protect him for me!")

Bilbo gave his mom as bright a smile as he could muster "You're probably right, mom. Tomorrow, after school, I'll go find them and apologize." He picked her hand up off his leg and kissed it. "Everything will be fine. I don't want you to worry about me."

"Bilbo, I'm your mom. And it is my right and privilege to worry about you. There's nothing you can do about that, o.k.?"

The son looked at his mom, the woman he'd known his entire life, going all the way back to the farthest reaches of his memory to when she was a young woman full of energy; racing him on the swings in the park to see who could climb higher, showing him how to dig sand crabs out of the sand at the beach, and reading him stories of adventures where dragons ruled over mountains of gold. Back to when there had also been a dad whose kisses joined hers when he was being tucked into bed. And here she was now, brought down by a disease she had fought long and valiantly. The war would end soon. He knew this because that was what the doctors all said was coming. And coming fast. But she was still his mom, disease or no, and with motherhood does come privileges...of that there was no denying. He smiled brighter and, setting his cup down on the night stand, he slid his feet out of his slippers and curled up in the slim space between his mom and the edge of the bed. He felt her arm wrap around him and a kiss being pressed onto the top of his head. And for the first time since that horrible incident at school, he truly felt that everything was going to be all right after all.

Bella nuzzled at her son's curly head before kissing it. Curls just like his dad's. And for the first time in a good while she missed her son's father...wished he was there for them, but for Bilbo especially. He had been a good man. If only he had been satisfied by the simple joy his family had offered him. If he were still with them they never would've had to leave home. And Bilbo would've been spared the sort of ugliness he had experienced that day, she was certain, at least until he was older and better equipped to deal with the bigotry that ran rampant out in the world. She had always known that her boy was different, even before the day he had come to her and told her that he was having feelings that didn't exactly seem normal for a boy to have. She had calmed his fears and told him that he was not wrong to feel these things, that God had made him perfect and that included in that was his choice of whom to love. She had then promised to help him make his way in a world that would not always believe in that truth. And it was a promise she would keep all the way to the end.

They stayed like that for some time, mother and son, until the boy realized he was in danger of falling asleep. He slowly sat up.

"Thank you mom. I think everything's going to be o.k."

Bella smiled at her beautiful son, "Of course it is, sweetheart. Now, go get some sleep."

Bilbo leaned over and kissed his mom's cheek, gaunt but still downy soft. "Is there anything you need?"

"No," Bella shook her head, her short graying auburn hair swinging about her face, "I'm fine. And nurse will be in soon, so there's nothing for you to worry about."

"O.k." Bilbo stood up and slid his feet back into his slippers before making his way across the room. "I'll see you in the morning." He said, standing in the open doorway.

"Yes you will. Sleep well, my love."

"You too, mommy." He hadn't called her that in years and it made them both smile.

"Good night, Bilbo."

"Good night." And he closed the door behind him.

++++++++

**Wednesday, September 24, 1958**

"I don't know...never been to Homecoming...it's just such a...square-fest!" Dwalin huffed, falling back heavily against the gutted Plymouth and sighing.

Bofur, sitting cross-legged on the auto shop work bench, spit-launched a sunflower seed shell that easily cleared the four feet to the trash can. He laughed, "You're not thinking about all the potentials the night can offer."

"That's right!" Nori, who was sitting next to Bofur, nodded in consensus before launching his own shell. It hit the outside of the can and stuck there. "This is Sherilyn _Horney_ , we're talking about, right?" He raised his hand for the high-five he expected from his friend, but Bofur only shook his head, muttering, "oh no". That's when Dwalin literally _growled_. Nori's hands shot up in surrender, "Hey! Just kidding, bro!"

"You know it's not smart to kid Dwalin," came from under the raised hood of the '39 Ford Woody, "He slugged a kid in fifth grade for calling Howdy Doody Charlie McCarthy's podunk cousin."

Bofur and Nori snickered as Dwalin glared daggers at his cousin. "Fuck you, Durin."

Thorin looked up from the Ford's exhaust manifold, "Face it! You're just pissed because I'm right and you know it." This only seemed to send Dwalin into a deeper funk.

Bofur landed another shell safely into the trash can, "So Thorin, what was your advice?"

"I told him to suck it up and ask her. Because if he doesn't, someone else will. It's as simple as that."

Bofur and Nori nodded in unison with Nori muttering, "And then goodbye best cleavage on campus."

Thorin nodded, "Mmm hmmm..."

Nori leaned forward, "What about you, Thorin? Is the last Durin standing going to homecoming?"

Thorin shot Nori a stony glare, "Are you?"

Nori showed a toothy grin, "No."

Bofur patted his friend's back, "And you never will."

Thorin stuck his head back under the car's hood. He had no time to think about things like Homecoming. Dwalin was right...it was a total square-fest! Sure there had been the occasional girl, in years past, who'd had the chutzpah to ask him to the yearly fall dance, but he'd let every one of them down, saying it just wasn't his scene. There was usually a race somewhere he'd be rarin' to go to...hell, just hanging out with his pack at Bob's was preferable to putting on a monkey suit and making sure some girl's punch glass was full all night. Giving the wrench in his hand one last, determined tug, the rusty bolt he'd been fighting with finally came loose. At the same time he could see, in his peripheral vision, Bofur giving Nori a hard nudge to the ribs which was quickly followed by Nori shouting, "Hey Thorin, lookie who's here!"

Setting the wrench and bolt aside, Thorin lifted his head up from under the Ford's hood and wiped his hands off on the red bandana he kept in the back pocket of his coveralls. Standing there, in the open garage-style door of the auto shop, was that kid from yesterday; the curious one who had almost become a Gundabad-sponsored grease stain. He stood ramrod straight, a regular square with his button-down sweater vest and shiny new penny loafers, his hands gripped tightly onto the strap of his worn leather school bag. The kid looked almost as terrified as he had the day before, but he did not look away when Thorin met him eye-to-eye.

"What do you want?" Thorin asked, bluntly. He hadn't meant for the words to come out as sharply as they had...but it was too late for any regret. He watched the boy blink once and swallow before speaking.

"It's about yesterday..." The voice sounded scared, but it was obvious to Thorin that this kid was fighting to keep it together, show a brave face. He respected that.

"Uh huh."

"I..." Bilbo took a step forward, crossing the invisible line that marked the threshold to this very foreign territory. "I want to apologize for the way I acted...afterwards...I don't know what compelled me..."

Dwalin pulled himself away from his pouting place against the Plymouth and snorted, "You're a jerk?"

Thorin gave his best friend a silencing glare and waved for him to be quiet.

Bilbo offered a small, self-conscious smile, the death-grip on his school bag as tight as ever, "That may be the case...but I just wanted you to know I'm sorry for being a jerk and also...thank you for doing what you did. If my mom were here she'd thank you too." Bilbo chuckled awkwardly before falling dead silent. "Ummm...I suppose that's everything...sorry to bother you...I guess...bye." Bilbo raised a hand, fingers quickly curling in before he turned and left. Thorin stood there, and for the second day in a row he was watching that kid walk away...but for some reason he could not name, something deep inside didn't want him to leave. No...for some unspecified reason it just felt wrong to Thorin and he went after him.

"Hey kid! You...wait!"

Bilbo hesitated a moment before looking back over his shoulder. That boy was coming after him, yelling at him to stop. He had been really hoping this whole episode was over, but since when had Bilbo Baggins ever been that lucky? Sighing hard, he stopped and waited.

"Sorry for that, in there," Thorin jerked his thumb back in the direction of the auto shop, "the guys..."

"Now you're apologizing." Bilbo watched the handsome boy he'd been afraid of just a moment ago go all sheepish, his hands shoved down deep in his coverall pockets.

"What? Yeah...Hey, I was just wondering...do you have to be anywhere right now?"

Thorin wasn't at all surprised when the boy gave him one of the most suspicious looks he'd ever been on the receiving end of. Principal Parker would've been envious. "No," Bilbo shook his head and Thorin watched the curls sway. "I was just going to catch the bus home. Why?"

"I was thinking," Thorin dropped his gaze to the ground as the toe of his boot kicked at the dirt, "wanna grab a coke down at Miller's...shoot the shit or whatever?"

Bilbo wondered if he was being messed with...what possible reason could this boy have for wanting to hang out with him? He looked up at the face composed of strong, masculine lines, but where he felt he should be seeing a threat he only saw an open... _earnestness_. He knew the safe (i.e. smart) thing to do would to just say "Thanks, but no thanks", turn, and leave but a loud, overriding voice in his head told him to just GO!

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Bilbo nodded, "Sure. I've never shot shit before." The smile that spread across the taller boy's face was mirrored by his own. "Yeah, that'd be fine."

Thorin was just as surprised to hear the kid agree as Bilbo had been to do it. "Yeah?"

Bilbo nodded, finding this whole exchange encroaching on the absurd, "Yeah."

"Alright," Thorin's hands flew out of his pockets and clapped, seemingly of their own volition. "Give me five to get things cleaned up in there, ok?"

"O.k." Bilbo chuckled as the boy turned to walk away and then almost immediately turn right back around, his hand outstretched. "Name's Thorin."

Bilbo looked at the hand in front of him for a second before taking it in his own. "Hi Thorin." He realized that, this close, he could see his own reflection in those bright blue eyes. "I'm Bilbo."

"Bilbo...hi." The name rolled out of Thorin's mouth. In his hand was another, smaller and soft, but the grip was anything but limp. Thorin shook Bilbo's hand and realized he didn't really want to let go. Not as long as it meant that Bilbo would continue to smile at him the way he was. It was one of the nicest smiles he'd ever seen on a guy.

++++++++

"So, what's a Miller's when they're at home?"

Thorin laughed, "It's a drugstore on the corner...has a soda fountain. You've never been to Miller's?"

Bilbo shook his head, "No. Can't say I have."

"Most people go to Bob's after school, place becomes a regular zoo. At Miller's there won't be quite so many animals."

"Bob's?"

"Yeah...the Big Boy...across the street."

"Oh."

"You're not from here, are you?"

"Excellent deduction, Mr. Holmes."

Thorin stole a glance out of the corner of his eyes at the head bobbing next to his shoulder. In the sun, the loose, round curls turned from dirty blonde to a bright honey gold.

"Smart ass." he mumbled. Another glance was timed perfectly for him to see green eyes smiling at him from behind those egg head glasses.

They walked through the campus, side by side, neither saying a word but both feeling oddly comfortable in one another's exclusive company. When they finally stepped off school property and onto the sidewalk that lined busy Colorado Avenue, Thorin immediately fished a beat up pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He held it out to Bilbo.

"No," Bilbo shook his head and waved his hands in front of him as if he were trying to wave the offending article away from him, "Thank you, but..."

"Yeah, I don't suppose you would smoke, huh?" Thorin tapped a cigarette out and stuck it between his lips.

"It's a filthy habit."

"Your mom tell you that?"

"Yes." Bilbo watched Thorin smirk as he lit his cigarette with one of those fancy silver lighters. He seemed to be making a production out of it, flipping the lighter this way and that with one hand. Bilbo wondered if all of that was for his benefit. He was torn between being impressed and wanting to laugh out loud.

Without a word, Thorin began walking again leaving Bilbo to jog for a few feet so as to catch up. Together they walked down the sidewalk crowded with other kids just out of school, men in suits and hats, and ladies wearing pearls and gloves. Pasadena was a bustling little metropolis in the shadow of the vast behemoth that was Los Angeles. It was felt by many to be the right kind of place to raise a family, where neighbors still looked out for one another. And as long as the filth and grime stayed west of the city limits, people were content that it would stay that way.

Thorin took a drag off his cigarette and wondered if he'd hear anything more about this little excursion from the guys. They had started in with questions as soon as he had returned to the auto shop and begun to clean up his mess and lower the Woody's hood.

"What's going on?" Dwalin had asked, curious as to why his best friend was trying to high-tail it out of there.

A simple "Nothing" had been Thorin's only reply.

"Doesn't look like nothing. Is it that guy?"

Thorin's gaze shot up to meet Dwalin's. "I'm just taking him down to Miller's for a coke."

"Why?" Dwalin's stare was doing absolutely nothing for the benefit of Thorin's nerves.

"I just thought it'd be a nice thing to do. Kid's had a hard time of it. Haven't you ever just wanted to do something nice for someone? Besides, what's it to you anyway?" Thorin slammed the tool chest shut and walked away without waiting for the answer Dwalin truly didn't have.

"If anyone would ask me, I'd say that kid has one hell of a hard-on for our young Mr. Durin." Nori butted in, his grin all teeth.

"Shut the fuck up, Nori...no one DID ask you!" Dwalin barked, feeling like today was as good as any to shove his foot up his annoying friend's ass.

Thorin threw his wadded up coveralls into his locker and slammed the door. With only calculus and a reading assignment in history for homework, he grabbed his two textbooks and stalked out of the building, a perfunctory wave to Dwalin his only good-bye.

Now he stood on the corner of East Colorado and Bonnie, waiting for the "walk" signal. Bilbo stood beside him, silent, most likely wondering what the hell he was doing there. Thorin knew exactly what he was doing there, with this kid he had only met yesterday, and not exactly under the best of conditions. He had felt sorry for him, this obvious little fish out of water, or rather, a little fish who had swam into an unfamiliar pond and almost gotten creamed for it. Besides, there was something about this kid he just plain _liked_.

The walk signal went green and the boys crossed the wide intersection. "Do you have to let anyone know you're going to be home late?" Thorin asked, figuring that after yesterday, Bilbo's folks would want to keep as close an eye on him as possible. Bilbo nodded.

"Yeah, I should call home and let my mom know where I am. After yesterday she'll probably start to worry if I'm not home immediately."

"There's a pay phone in the drugstore, back by the restrooms. Need a dime?"

Bilbo stepped up onto the curb, shaking his head, "Thank you, but no, I've got one."

"What are you going to tell her?" Thorin pulled Bilbo out of the path of pedestrian traffic, close to the big window that had "Miller's Drugstore and Soda Fountain" painted on it in gold and black lettering.

Bilbo looked at the words on the window and then back up at Thorin, "That I'm at a soda fountain with the nice boy from yesterday." His smile began to go shy when the realization struck that he had actually said those words out loud. .

Thorin snickered, a stream of smoke coming out of his nose, "The _nice_ boy? That's got to be a first."

"Sorry," Bilbo found he could no longer meet the piercing blue of Thorin's gaze. "that's the only way I knew how to describe you to her."

"I don't mind it," Thorin cocked his head down, trying to catch Bilbo's eyes. "Although, I don't think the Gundabads would agree with you."

"Oh," Bilbo shivered at the sound of that hated name, "I don't care what they think." He looked back up and it was like looking at the brightest sky, "Besides, you saved me from getting the shit kicked out of me. I'd say that's pretty nice. Wouldn't you?"

Thorin took a last drag off his cigarette before dropping it to the ground and smashing it out under his boot. He laid his hand lightly on Bilbo's back, "Come on, let's get something to drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Bilbo mentions a tea shop on Geary, by which he means Geary Blvd in San Francisco, one of the main thoroughfares in the City. On Geary, between Fillmore and Laguna, is Japantown...a shopping center devoted to shops and restaurants that sell almost exclusively products and foods from Japan. When I lived in the Bay Area, Japantown was a monthly excursion for me. It's been _years_ since I was last there, but I remember there was a really nice tea shop that also sold gorgeously boxed tea cakes. _I MISS IT!!!_
> 
> -There was a Bob's Big Boy about two miles down East Colorado Blvd from where Pasadena High School was in 1958. Until 1960, the school shared a campus with Pasadena City College, which is still in the same place today as it was then. I would imagine the large number of baby boomers reaching their teens in the late 50's is what made the building of the large campus on East Sierra Madre necessary. I moved Bob's closer to campus for convenience sake. Miller's is my own creation, although there is an honest-to-goodness pharmacy/soda fountain in South Pasadena called Fair Oaks Pharmacy. It was opened in 1915 and sits on the actual Route 66. It's way too far from PHS to use in the fic, but is on my list of "must go" places next time I'm in So Cal.
> 
> As you probably know, this fic has a [tumblr](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/). I post whatever I've been researching, listening to, curious about regarding the fifties...everything I don't want to inundate the followers on my [regular blog](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com) with, which is where I still cry over Bagginshield as well as other lovely things.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/faXoqCt)
> 
> The boys spend some time, talking, over sodas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter fits very squarely in the "T" rating...no new tags and the only ones that stand out are language and talk of dying/dead parents. Which makes this sound really depressing, but I promise it isn't.
> 
> There's a [playlist](http://8tracks.com/stesha-n/at-miller-s-drugstore-and-soda-shop)! You just can't have a soda shop without a jukebox playing! This particular jukebox is chock full of the soft pop hits that were big with the upright, uptight squares. Nothing too wild here. And I blame the three girls at the counter for 3/4 of the songs.
> 
> Oh, and before we start...yes, I fudged with the Took family tree a wee-bit. Looking at it in the Appendices of The Lord of the Rings, I was surprised how few offspring are recorded for the children of the Old Took. So, I gave Bilbo's Uncle Hildibrand a daughter.

  
_I found my thrill_  
_on Blueberry Hill_  
_on Blueberry Hill_  
_when I found you_

"Honey, is that you?"

Bilbo pressed the telephone's receiver closer to his ear in an attempt to keep Fats Domino out of the conversation, "Yeah, mom, it's me."

"Where are you? Are you alright?" Her voice was weak and she sounded awfully tired. A heavy weight dropped to the pit of Bilbo's stomach.

"I'm fine mom." He assured her, forcing a cheerful tone, "I'm at the soda shop across the street from school. I did that thing we talked about last night."

"Did you?"

"Yeah...remember? I apologized to those boys who helped me."

"That's right. And how did that go?"

"Really well. That's why I'm here." Bilbo was watching Thorin, sitting at the booth by the big window, staring out of it, his arm laid out across the back of the seat. "I'm with that boy..."

"Not the nice one?" Bilbo would've sworn he could hear his mom smiling.

"Yeah...Listen mom, I better get going. I just didn't want you to worry."

"Oh...thank you, darling. Just be home by dinner."

"I will."

"Alright." There was silence.

"Mom? Are you o.k.?"

"Oh...I'm fine, don't you worry about me. Have fun."

"I think I'm going to."

"Good..I'm glad. See you later, sunshine."

"See ya, mom."

Bilbo placed the heavy receiver back in its cradle and took a deep breath. These spells of exhaustion his mom had been experiencing were coming much more often and they scared him. The doctors had never been very clear about how much time she had left but as long as she seemed o.k. he could almost forget she was so terribly sick. That, however, became really hard to do on the days where she spent more time asleep than awake. He pulled his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his nose before noticing that Thorin was watching him. He smiled as if everything was o.k.

Making his way back to the booth, he took in his surroundings. Miller's was a good sized drugstore, stocked with all the practical necessities of modern life like aspirin, soap, and toothpaste. Tucked in the back was a soda fountain with a grill; a line of red vinyl tufted stools were pulled up to the counter and a bank of booths sat alongside the windows that looked out onto North Bonnie Avenue. Bilbo recognized the three girls in matching felt poodle skirts, sitting at the counter, from his Chemistry class and the couple canoodling in the booth directly behind Thorin could always be seen every lunch hour, practically in each other's laps, under the big tree behind the library.

"Everything o.k.?" Thorin asked as Bilbo slipped into the booth opposite him.

"Yes," Bilbo offered a brighter smile than he was feeling, "Everything's fine...just have to be home by dinner." He inwardly cringed with that admission for surely there was nothing cool about needing to be home by dinnertime and he wondered if Thorin was imagining apron strings tied to him like a leash.

"That's cool," Thorin answered honestly, "I have to stick around until five so I can give my little sister a lift home."

"You have a sister?"

Thorin nodded and picked at one of the gold spots that decorated the formica table top, "Yeah...she's a paper-shaker." He shook his fist in the air.

Bilbo wondered if he'd heard that right. "She's a...what was that again?"

Thorin laughed at the look of confusion on the kid's face, "You know...a paper-shaker...a cheerleader. Don't they have those where you're from?" Two water glasses magically appeared.

" _What'll you boys have_?"

Standing beside their table, looking down at them over the top of her red cat's eye glasses, was a waitress who seemed to have appeared from out of nowhere. She clicked her pen twice, eyes looking from Thorin to Bilbo and back again. The name tag on her crisp, pale pink uniform read _Carol_.

Thorin, as cool as a cucumber...and twice as nonchalant...waved the hand of his that hung from the back of the booth, "I'll have a coke."

Bilbo grabbed a menu from its place behind the tabletop jukebox and flipped it open. "I'll have...Hey, Thorin, you don't mind if I get something to eat, do you? I can pay for it."

"Knock yourself out." And Thorin got a kick out of the show that was Bilbo and his enthusiastic and detailed ordering of a burger...medium-well...with american cheese, grilled onions, dill not sweet pickles, tomatoes, fries, extra-crispy...

Bilbo looked up from the menu, "And do you have strawberry soda?"

The waitress clicked her pen again, "We've got it in the bottle or I can make you an Italian."

"Oooh...an Italian please...with cream," Bilbo sat up tall on his side of the booth, a huge grin directed first at the most accommodating of waitresses and then at Thorin who couldn't help grinning back.

"That good, huh?" Thorin asked.

Bilbo nodded vigorously and pulled at least ten paper napkins out of the shiny silver dispenser. "I haven't had an Italian cream soda since I left home. They're the living end! Don't tell me you've never had one."

Thorin slowly shook his head.

"Well, you can try some of mine, if you want."

Thorin blinked. "Sure."

Bilbo looked away from those blue eyes; watching, scrutinizing, under soot black lashes. He could feel his cheeks burn. Why did he have to choose this moment to act like some dippy child, out in the adult world without mom for the first time?

Thorin watched the kid begin to methodically refold and straighten the pile of napkins in front of him, "So tell me...where is it that you call home?"

Bilbo sighed, a wistful smile gracing his lips. "San Francisco."

"Oh yeah? What are you doing here? Did you get tired of all that fog?" Thorin chuckled but realized the kid's smile didn't reach his eyes.

Bilbo shook his head, "No...my mom's sick so we moved down here to stay with my grandma."

"Wow, that's tough. I'm real sorry about that."

"There's no need." Bilbo patted his neat stack of carefully refolded napkins, "You didn't cause it."

"Yeah, but...awww, come on" Thorin put on his cockiest smile, "she's getting better, right?" He'd had enough of seeing the kid unhappy.

"Not according to the doctors. But hey," Bilbo looked up showing green eyes wet and shining, "what do they know, right?"

For the first time in what had to be years, Thorin, ever confident and ready with the right quip or curse, was at a loss for words. He could only look into those sad eyes...

( _Pretty eyes._ )

...and watch as Bilbo pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and blew his nose before murmuring a quiet, "sorry".

"Alrighty boys, here we are!" Carol proclaimed as she set drinks down on the table; Thorin got his coke and Bilbo his Italian cream soda; a swirling pink confection in a tall milkshake glass topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a red cherry with the stem still attached.

"This has to be one of the fanciest Italian sodas I've ever seen." Bilbo said, working up a small smile, as he ripped the end off the straw wrapper.

"That's something, all right. Looks like a milk..." And Thorin was struck dumb when a straw wrapper nailed him right in the middle of his forehead. He looked at the innocuous missile, now laying in his lap, before directing his gaze at the one who had launched the attack. He caught a glint of mischievous green right before Bilbo stuck his straw into his soda glass and took his first sip. Eyelids slid closed and Thorin watched the kid's face morph into a mask of pure bliss.

"O.k...I think you've convinced me. Hand it over."

Bilbo grabbed another straw and popped it into the glass. "Here," he slid it towards Thorin, "help yourself."

Thorin pulled the glass closer and, taking a hold of the newly added straw, he took a sip. The sweet berry flavor flowed over his tongue on a small river of creamy carbonation. He swallowed and looked up into an expectant face.

"So? What do you think? Like it?"

"Yeah..." Thorin pushed the glass back to Bilbo, "it's different than what I normally like, but...yeah, it's good."

Bilbo was already taking another sip, but stopped when he noticed a spot of pink creamy froth amidst the whiskers on Thorin's chin. Grabbing a napkin from his pile, he leaned across the table. "Hold still, you've got something..." and he wiped it away and plopped back down on his seat before Thorin barely had a chance to register what was happening.

"What..." Thorin rubbed his hand over his chin.

"You just had some cream right here," Bilbo pointed to the corresponding spot on his own chin. "So," he continued right on, ignoring his companion's silence and goofy grin, "are you one of the natives?"

Thorin leaned forward, elbows on the table, and fiddled with the wayward straw wrapper. He shook his head, "Nah...as much as I get mistaken for one of those California golden boys, I was actually born back east."

"Really?" Bilbo slowly stirred the whipped cream into his drink, "I've never been...where exactly?"

"New York...Brooklyn. My family'd been there for generations."

"Do you remember it at all?"

"No...I was still a baby crapping his diapers when we left."

Bilbo couldn't help but giggle at Thorin's colorful vocabulary. "So, Pasadena is home for you, then."

Thorin shrugged, "As much home as home can be, I suppose."

"Why'd your parents decide to leave?"

A grin slowly spread across Thorin's face. "You writing a book?"

"No." Bilbo felt the initial spike of irritation bleed out of him when he spotted what looked something like a dare in Thorin's eyes. Well he had already been accused of being a smart ass...might as well live up to it. "But I am on the school paper!" He blurted, excitedly, as he dug into his satchel, pulling out a small notebook and a pen. "How about you give me an exclusive! We'll plaster it right there on the front page in stunning black and white..." And he raised his hands as if he were framing a headline, " _Pasadena High's own Thorin Durin...From Brooklyn Beginnings to Campus Champion...read it all here!_ "

" _Campus Champion?_ " Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"Well...yeah! I would attest to it myself. And I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be the only one."

"Nope, sorry. There's only you." Thorin flicked the wrapper he'd been fiddling with and it bounced off Bilbo's hand. Instead of being rolled up into a ball, the paper wrapper had been neatly folded into what now resembled a sort of spring. Bilbo was about to ask how one went about creating such an intricate thing when Carol arrived with a plate loaded down with a giant burger and a mound of crispy, golden fries.

"Here we are...do you boys need anything else?"

"No, thank you, ma'am." Bilbo sat back as his meal was presented to him and he casually slid the little paper treasure into his pocket. "Wow! All of a sudden I'm starving!" And he went straight to work preparing his burger precisely the way he wanted; ketchup and mustard spread on the top bun before it was set upon a mound of lettuce and then cut in two.

"Didn't you eat lunch?" Thorin asked, impressed by the size of the kid's meal.

"No, not really. Please, help yourself to any of this." Bilbo carefully picked up one half of his burger and took a bite.

Thorin grabbed a french fry. "You need to refuel, little man...how else do you expect to get any taller?"

Bilbo set his burger down and wiped the smear of mustard and ketchup from his mouth, "I'll have you know I turned seventeen the day before yesterday, so I really don't expect to get any taller. And, by the way, thank you for pointing that out to me, it's not like I'm acutely aware of it or anything." From the tone of the sharp titter that escaped his throat, it was obvious he was not amused and it made Thorin feel like a heel.

"Hey look, man, I'm sorry. You're right, that was a shitty thing for me to say. And, Bilbo...."

"Hmm?" Bilbo didn't look at Thorin, merely grabbed his soda glass.

"Happy Birthday."

Bilbo froze, the paper straw stuck to his lower lip. His eyes flew up to catch Thorin smiling that damned crooked smile and he felt all of his discipline and self-control, those things he used to protect who and what he was, that he held onto dearly like a life-preserver, slowly dissolve and he believed that he might just become the first person to drown on dry land. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat.

"Thank you, Thorin." And he offered a genuine smile before sipping at his soda.

"Now tell me why you didn't eat lunch."

Sitting back, Bilbo let his gaze fall out of the window and he watched cars and people pass by on the busy city street, "I was nervous about apologizing to you," he said softly, embarrassed by the admission, "because I didn't know how you would react, so I worried about it all day." He felt the tap of a finger on the back of his hand and he turned to see Thorin leaning over the table, blue eyes as bright as the afternoon sky looking deep into his own.

"That was a silly thing to do."

Bilbo could only hold that gaze for a moment before he felt his cheeks begin to burn. He quickly looked away and busied himself with poking at a puddle of ketchup with a french fry, "I think I know that now."

"Good," Thorin grabbed another fry and leaned back in his seat, "Now, weren't you in the process of giving me the third degree?"

"We don't have to..."

"No," Thorin cut him off, "I want to, but only if I get my turn to play detective."

"Fair enough." Bilbo agreed as he felt a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck and under his collar. He had to wonder at everything that had happened over the last 24 hours to lead him to this moment. Just yesterday this boy...Thorin...had been merely an image on a sunny morning, handsome and remote, like a picture in a book. And now he was watching him eat french fries, one at a time, from his plate, and admiring how six-plus feet of human masculinity filled a soda fountain booth. Bilbo cleared his throat and asked, "So, why did your family make the move out west?"

"Pop got a lead on a construction job out here, so he and some other members of the family decided to make the move. I think the idea was to get as far away as possible from what was happening in Europe."

"Oh, yeah..." Bilbo nodded. He had been very little himself, at the time, but he still had vague memories of the war and the grown ups' fear of an invader from overseas. "They must've been none too happy when Pearl Harbor happened."

Thorin shook his head and chuckled, "No...but hey, if you're going to get bombed, might as well be where the sun always shines, right?"

"That is certainly looking on the bright side of things," Bilbo chuckled.

"What about you?" Thorin asked, "Were you born in Frisco?"

Bilbo couldn't help but cringe.

"What?"

"Sorry, it's nothing," Bilbo shook his head, "It's just that they say you can always tell a foreigner when they say 'Frisco'."

"Well, don't look, but you're the foreigner now." Thorin sucked down the last of his coke.

"Don't I know it," Bilbo muttered with a thinly veiled bitterness, "but, to answer your question...yes, I was born in the city."

"So...uhhh...you know... _after_...are you and your pop going to move back?" He watched Bilbo calmly finish chewing and use the last napkin from his pile to wipe his mouth.

"No." Bilbo stated, very matter-of-fact. "My dad died when I was eight. I am stuck here until graduation." He watched as what he'd said registered on Thorin's face; appearing there, quietly, but it was there all the same, as if he were suffering a small but irritating pain. Bilbo could sense that old demon, humiliation, creeping up on him again. He sat up, straight and stiff, refusing to be claimed yet again. "Please don't look at me like that." He said, low and sharp, under his breath. "What ever it is you're thinking...I'm not asking for sympathy. And I certainly don't need yours."

Thorin leaned forward, over the table, shaking his head vigorously; his hands sliding, forward, reaching. "You have no idea what the hell I'm thinking! I only...see...I was just surprised, is all. I lost my pop a few years back."

"You did?" Bilbo went cold and wanted so badly to disappear, become one with the sparkly red vinyl. He was a fool; a silly, little fool. "I'm so sorry, Thorin...I...I didn't mean..."

"It's o.k.! Hey! You know? You didn't know...I didn't know..."

"And now we do." Bilbo felt like he was watching a movie, in full-color CinemaScope on one of those big screens. In it, Rosemary Clooney was somewhere in the background, singing about the stars in her eyes, while a hand, that looked an awful lot like Thorin's, was laying, fingertip to fingertip, with a hand that looked an awful lot like his own. And when the fingers touched, he felt something like an electric tingle travel through his arm and it made his heart skip a beat. He couldn't help but smile before discreetly sliding his hand away.

Thorin sat up and lifted his empty coke bottle "Here's to us, huh? To fatherless sons."

Bilbo clinked Thorin's bottle with his soda glass, "Here's to us." And he sucked down the last of his soda. "Who needs 'em, anyway?" He muttered before popping the cherry in his mouth and ripping the stem off.

Thorin set his coke bottle down and watched Bilbo pull a cloth out of his pocket and clean his glasses. He had never known anyone who had been dealt such a rotten hand as the one this kid had, but despite all of it Bilbo was here and he was standing up, fighting. What a surprise the guys would get to find that the little spitfire they encountered the previous day was not an act but the real deal. He had a sudden urge to reach across the table and ruffle the kid's curls, but managed to shrug it off and sighed instead.

"How did this go and get heavy on us?"

Bilbo waved it away with a smile and slid his glasses back into place. "It's alright...It's just the ways things are. Besides, I have to admit this has been the most interesting conversation I've had since I got here."

"Well, that's good, I guess."

"Yes, I'd say it's very good." Oh for...why did he have to blush every time their eyes met? Maybe if he distracted him with food... "Would you like the rest of this?" Bilbo nudged his plate in Thorin's direction, "I'm getting full."

"Sure...thanks." Thorin accepted the gift, a generous one considering he had already eaten most of the french fries. He took a bite of the burger. "So," he asked as he chewed, "How are the other inmates treating you?"

"Just fine, if I ignore yesterday's little incident, which I choose to do."

"Oh yeah? That's good. So...you're making friends?" Thorin felt something in his stomach flip, but not quite flop. Must've been the burger.

"Mmmm...sort of. My cousin has taken it upon herself to be my social director. But, to be honest, I've never exactly been what you'd call a 'social butterfly'. Not even back home. I'd rather just stay home and read most of the time."

"Who's the cousin?"

"Evendím Took. Do you know her?"

"No," Thorin shook his head, slowly, "We don't exactly run in the same circles..."

_(Campus Princess Evendím Took? Cousin??)_

"How is Evendím Took your cousin?"

"Well," Bilbo counted off relatives on his fingers, "she is my mother's elder brother...that would be Uncle Hildibrand...she's his eldest daughter. At least, I think that's right. I never was particularly close to this side of the family before moving here and there are so many of them, they're hard to keep straight sometimes."

Thorin knew he probably looked like a drowning fish, all gape-mouthed, but..."Your mom is a Took?"

"Yeah, that's why we're here. She even went to PHS. My grandma..."

"Wouldn't be Old Lady Took?

Bilbo laughed, "I think she'd take umbrage with that particular title but I'm guessing, yes?"

"You're one of the Pasadena Tooks." And in the space of those few words uttered, Thorin saw the distance between him and Bilbo, who was drinking thirstily from his water glass, grow. The other side of the table was now a mile away...a hundred miles; a distance insurmountable and paved with old family gold and no way did he have the toll.

"I suppose so," Bilbo wiped the water from the corner of his mouth. "I've never thought of myself as that, though...always considered myself one of the Bay Area Baggins," He affected an upper-crust accent and then laughed at the absurdity of it all. He had never been one for all of that society nonsense; who came from which family and all that, but then none of that had held any importance for his parents, either. Looking up at Thorin and expecting to see that smile that made his heart skip a beat, he instead found his companion staring at some spot on the table in front of him, eyes heavy-lidded and...sad? No. Couldn't be.

Thorin merely replied, "You're rich."

"My family is." Bilbo stated as drily as he could. "Thorin, is there a problem...I don't understand..."

"Must be nice." And Thorin regretted the words as soon as they fell stupidly out of his mouth.

"It's not that nice, actually. Money doesn't keep parents from dying, now, does it?" And Bilbo regretted his words almost as quickly.

" _Touché_ " Thorin thought to himself. And he looked again, across the table. No, there wasn't any uncrossable distance, just a formica table-top dotted with an empty coke bottle, a couple glasses, and a plate with the cold remains of a mostly eaten cheeseburger and a couple stiff french fries drowning in a smear of ketchup. And sitting across from him was some well-dressed square named Bilbo, who had managed to get a speck of mustard on his expensive wool sweater vest. A square who was nothing at all like what Thorin had expected. One corner of his mouth curled up, "I thought you weren't interested in sympathy."

Bilbo nodded, matching Thorin's smile with one of his own, "You're right...that wasn't fair."

"No, it wasn't. Neither of us are playing fair, are we?"

Bilbo's eyes met Thorin's directly, and his heart started pounding in his chest, "Does that mean we stop playing?"

Thorin looked into a pair of the most open, honest eyes he'd ever seen...gold flecks there in amongst the green...and shook his head, "No," he said, barely above a whisper, "I don't want to stop."

"Good," Bilbo's entire body relaxed in a boneless heap, "I'm really glad. I don't want to stop either." And before Thorin could respond, Bilbo reached over the table and tapped his finger on one of Thorin's, the one on which he wore a wide silver band inlaid with a blue stone in an intricate, geometric design.

"What's that?" Bilbo asked, all bright eyes and mischievous grin.

"Uhhh...I think it's called a ring."

"Yeah, I think I have that part figured out."

"I hear they're big with the kids these days."

"Shhh...smart ass" Bilbo whispered.

"You know it takes one..."

Bilbo shot Thorin a glare but otherwise claimed the high road and ignored the remark, "It looks Egyptian."

Thorin glanced down at the ring. It was one of the few things of his grandfather's that had been given to him after the old man kicked the bucket and he had worn it religiously ever since it had stopped slipping off his finger. "That's funny cuz it is...Grandpa Durin picked it up in Cairo when he was there...back in the twenties, I think."

"Wow! Cairo? That's pretty neat." Bilbo said, genuinely impressed, "I'd love to travel somewhere exotic and exciting like Egypt. It would be quite the adventure." Bilbo ran his finger across the band, "You know? It really suits you...the blue, especially."

"Thanks," Thorin said before taking a sip from his water glass. It had suddenly gotten very warm and he carefully pulled his hand away from Bilbo's curious fingers and slid out of his leather jacket.

Watching Thorin take off his jacket, Bilbo admired every movement and most especially how sun-kissed skin lay over the muscles of his arms and the way they filled the sleeves of the simple, white t-shirt. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch. Instead, he wrapped his hand around his cold, wet water glass.

"So, tell me about your friends."

"What...those gorillas? Whadda ya want to know?"

"Who's the scary one with the ridiculous laugh?"

At first all Thorin could do was laugh...laugh until his belly ached and the girls at the counter were turning around and looking.

"The 'scary one' is Dwalin and he's my cousin."

"Oh..." Bilbo grimaced, "I didn't realize. I'm..."

"You're right...he's got a stupid laugh but chicks go crazy for it. And the whole scary deal is part of his shtick."

Bilbo relaxed, happy he hadn't walked them into another mine-field. "I can see how that would be useful...the whole scary part. He is rather intimidating."

"You should tell him that the next time you see him, he'll probably buy you flowers or something."

"No," Bilbo giggled and shook his head, "that's o.k. Is he your best friend?"

"Yeah," It took Thorin a second to answer. He had never really thought about his friend in that way. Dwalin had always just been _Dwalin_. Always there. Always true. "I suppose so."

Bilbo took a sip of water before asking, "Are you Jewish?"

"Yeah," a defensive rod instinctually went up Thorin's spine, "is that a problem?"

"No," Bilbo shook his head as vigorously as he could without giving himself whiplash, "Of course not! It's just...you said a word I recognized as Yiddish...I was just curious. I myself don't subscribe to a particular church so...just curious, is all." And he smiled awkwardly at the scowling boy across from him until those now familiar features softened. "Who's the fellow in the hat? He doesn't seem the least bit terrifying."

Thorin chuckled, "That clown's name's Bofur. His cousin owns that garage over on Walnut and we all work there so we let him tag along. He's young, but he's a good kid."

"You work at a garage? What do you do, pump gas?"

"Sometimes...I mostly work on cars, though...oil changes, spark plugs, tires, brakes...it's a good job and pays o.k."

Bilbo slouched to the side, his head propped up on his hand, as he pictured Thorin, grease smeared on his face and a wrench in his hand, as he worked his mechanical magic; making car engines sing. He sighed, "Is that what you want to do? Work on cars?"

"Sure, I'd like to work on cars. You know what I'd really like do is work on more high-performance engines...race cars, that sort of thing. It's sort of a dream of mine."

"That sounds so exciting! I've seen pictures of those race cars that look like bullets on wheels...they're something else."

"You ever been to a race?" Thorin leaned forward and looked into Bilbo's sleepy, almost dreamy, eyes. "Ever seen an Aston Martin hit top speed?" He whispered. Enticed.

"A car race?" Bilbo sat up and shook his head. "No, I can't say I have. Sounds like it'd be a gas!"

And for a moment Thorin came real close to forming the words that would've been a full-blown invitation to check out a race at Riverside but instead what came out was, "You should go sometime, You'd dig it." And he had the feeling that he had just avoided something dangerous, scary, even though he had no idea what it could be and he didn't look any closer.

Bilbo smiled and nodded, trying not to imagine a scenario that involved fast cars and their loud, earth-rumbling engines, racing around a track, while standing at Thorin's side as he cheered them on, his own engine revving. He took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his thumping heart. "Who's the toothy one?" he asked, suddenly needing to change the subject.

Thorin screwed up his face, lost for a second. "Toothy one?"

"Yeah, you know, your friend with the big red hair and the teeth. Kind of looks like a fox when he smiles?"

Thorin grabbed a napkin and blew his nose, "Aww...that's Nori. He's a fox, alright, stay away from him. " And he shoved the waded up napkin in the pocket of his dungarees.

"Why? Is he dangerous?"

"What? No...I meant..." Thorin shook his head. What had he meant? "It's just...He's the kind of guy girls should stay clear of. And the smart ones do."

"A regular Don Juan?" Bilbo suggested, although honestly, he had a hard time seeing it.

Thorin laughed. "Right! Yeah...how about no. Punk wishes he were, but he's all talk. A regular big mouth...but he's good to have around when you're in a jam."

Bilbo thought he understood, "Like yesterday."

"Yeah, exactly like that."

"Now that must be nice."

"What?"

"Having buddies who've got your back the way they do yours."

"Didn't you leave friends back home?"

"Oh sure, but..." Bilbo looked out the window, "I don't know if anyone there would be ready to shed blood for me." He chuckled softly.

"What's funny?"

"I was just thinking," Bilbo wondered if the concern on Thorin's face was specifically for him. "You didn't even know me and you were ready to shed blood."

"If it's Gundabad blood, I'm always ready for a rumble." And yesterday, Thorin had been more than ready but he hadn't wanted the kid to get mixed up in anything, so he'd let the beast and his kid brother go without a drop spilt.

"I see. So there's a feud?"

"I suppose you could say that...but, Bilbo?"

"Yeah?" He could barely hold the intensity of Thorin's gaze and he would've sworn he felt heat coming off of him.

"If you ever need my help, I'll be right there, o.k.? Me and the guys...we've got your back and I will shed blood if I have to."

Right in that moment, everything about Thorin scared him. He swallowed hard and failed at forcing a smile. "I appreciate that...Thank you! But I really hope it never comes to that. I'd hate it if you got hurt on my account."

"No. Don't you worry about that. Anything, ok? Remember." And the deadly serious turned to playful and glasses and a plate were shoved aside so Thorin could rest his arm on the table and a hand, open and waiting, was presented. Bilbo looked from the hand to Thorin, who merely nodded and whispered, "Take it." So, Bilbo, slow and tentative, leaned forward and gripped it with his own. He could feel the strength in that hand, but it didn't try to over power him, didn't hurt him. He squeezed back and watched Thorin nod, a big-ass smile covering his face.

"Nice! Got a grip on ya, little man. I'd be sorry for the chump who messed with you."

Letting go, Bilbo sat up, opening and closing his hand. With the memory of Thorin's grip most likely permanently engraved on his skin, he looked around, trying to find something to distract him from the boy across from him..

(hardly a boy, now, is he?)

He leaned over and started turning the knob on the tabletop jukebox, flipping through the pages of song selections.

"You know...it's really unlike me to sit here for so long and not even look at the songs on the jukebox. Normally, I would've pumped about half a dozen dimes into this thing. They'd have music playing in here 'til midnight."

"Well, then," Thorin drawled, "next time I'll just have to bring a bag full of dimes. We'll keep that thing rockin' for years."

Bilbo's face was literally on fire. Or, if it wasn't it surely was doing a fair approximation. Again, his eyes wandered, desperate for something to help calm his pounding heart. And that's when he spotted the pink, neon clock on the wall. He looked fast from the clock to his wrist watch. It told the same time. And it was time to go home. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"I hate to say this, but I need to start getting home."

Thorin looked up at the clock. It was getting late...he'd have to pick up the brat soon. Damn.

"O.k. But you know, I barely got a chance to make you spill all your secrets."

Bilbo laughed, "Why? You writing a book?"

Thorin's grin included pearly whites. "Maybe."

"I think you probably know all of the important things."

"Somehow I get the feeling there's a lot more under the hood." Thorin watched the kid turn all red and flustered, gaping at him, completely at a loss for words. This was too much fun and he really wasn't ready to let him go. "Hey, where do you live?"

"Up...up on...uhhh...on Acorn Lane...know where that is?"

"Acorn...that's got to be up in the hills."

"Yeah. Why? Why do you want to know?"

"I was just thinking that I'd give you a ride home on my bike, but I think I'd be late getting back to pick up Dís and then I'd never hear the end of it."

Bilbo giggled, "I'd pay to see you getting scolded by your mom." And he waved his finger at Thorin like an angry mother.

"Alright, you know what? Forget about a ride home. Punk." Thorin feigned a pout but couldn't help laugh with Bilbo. The kid was positively infectious.

Bilbo waved at Carol to get her attention. "You ride a motorcycle?"

"Yeah...you ever ridden one?"

"Oh goodness no. Aren't they dangerous?"

"Only if you don't know what you're doing. I'll have to give you a ride sometime." Now, _THAT_ was something that needed to happen. Thorin thought it'd be a kick to give the kid the thrill of his life!

"Sure! Sounds terrifying, but I'd love to...sometime." Ahh...but who was fooling who? He knew they'd probably never speak to each other again. And if they did it would only be in passing. Oh well, at least he'd had this time to talk to a bona fide cool guy. And he'd never forget it.

Carol came over with their tabs. She wished them a good evening and told them to "come visit us again soon, alrighty?"

And then they set to collecting their things. Thorin slid into his leather jacket before snatching Bilbo's notepad away from him before he could stick it back in his satchel. He held his hand out and Bilbo placed a pen in it. Flipping it over, he lifted up the back cover and on the last sheet of paper he wrote down a series of numbers. Then he clicked the pen and closed the notepad and slid them back to their owner.

"Just in case you need anything. Call. Kay?"

Bilbo slid the notepad in his satchel without opening it and nodded. "O.k." Then he slid the strap over his head and scooted out of the booth. He followed Thorin to the cashier, watching him from behind; the broad shoulders and those long legs and the boots that made a very distinct and manly _clomp_ when they hit the tile floor. Even after spending this time with him, Bilbo was just as much in awe of his _presence_ as he had been the previous morning.

"You like Good and Plentys?" Bilbo hadn't been aware that Thorin was asking him a question until there was a candy box shaking in front of his face.

"Huh? Not really. Black licorice isn't my thing."

"More for me then." Thorin chuckled as he put the candy on the counter and asked the cashier for a pack of Lucky Strikes.

Bilbo and Thorin walked out of the drug store and into the beginning of an evening lit by the setting Southern California sun. The sky in the west glowed a brilliant orange and crimson and Bilbo couldn't help but smile when he felt the warmth hit his face.

"So, the name's Baggins, huh?" Thorin asked, once again looking down at the kid.

"Bilbo Baggins...that's me." He adjusted his satchel and held out his hand, "It was a pleasure, Thorin."

Thorin took the hand he was starting to grow real fond of, "What are you going to tell your mom about me?"

"Oh, that's easy," Bilbo let go of Thorin's hand and waved the question away, "Just going to tell her that you're rude and insensitive and talk with you mouth full..." he laughed at the look of surprise on Thorin's face, "and the nicest person I've met here." And he watched himself lay his hand on that leather covered arm and squeeze. It was just as solid as he had imagined.

Thorin looked from the hand on his arm to Bilbo's astonished face. "There's that word again. Nice."

Bilbo pulled his hand away and let his nervous energy bounce him on the balls of his feet, "Mmm...I'll see if I can come up with a better one. I'll let you know when I find one."

"You got my number."

Bilbo took one last hard look up into those gloriously blue eyes that were smiling down at him. "I do." Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bus...his bus...come rolling down Colorado Blvd. He frowned and stamped his foot. If only they could have a few more minutes.

"That's my bus. I gotta go...see you around, sometime!"

"Sure. You bet."

With one last smile and a wave, Bilbo trotted over to the bus stop, digging his bus pass out of his satchel.

Thorin stood and watched the kid, Bilbo, run off to his bus. Run off home, to some big house in the hills where grandma will have dinner waiting for him and mama...

He cracked open his brand new pack of smokes and pulled one out. The first of a pack was always the best one. He lit it and took that first drag just as Bilbo was climbing the steps and disappeared into the belly of the bus.

"Hey there, handsome. You got a light?"

Standing beside him were two girls he recognized as being students of the college PHS shared a campus with. They were both pretty and the one that had spoken was brunette and buxom, her blouse as tight as the skirt she wore. She already had a cigarette in her hand and was batting at least a pound of false eyelashes at him.

"Sure" he mumbled, pulling his lighter out of his pocket. As she leaned into the flame, Thorin looked up just in time to see Bilbo's bus drive by. He caught a glimpse of him, looking out, his hand pressed against the window. With no hands free, Thorin could merely smile and nod.

"That a friend of yours?" The second girl, a blonde with a flippy ponytail and ruby red lips, asked before getting her cigarette lit.

"Yeah." Thorin watched the bus roll on down the boulevard and out of sight.

"So, you got somewhere you need to be,..." The brunette waited for Thorin to introduce himself.

"Yeah. See ya." Thorin pocketed his lighter and used the walk signal as a method of escape. As he crossed the street, he took a drag off his cigarette and slowly let the smoke escape. He walked like this, back to the campus, to collect his little sister. And he kept repeating one word, over and over, in his head.

"Bilbo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Song Writing Credit**  
>  _Blueberry Hill_  
>  Vincent Rose, Larry Stock, and Al Lewis (1940)
> 
> I want to thank everyone who's left kudos and comments, bookmarked and subscribed! It really means so much to me!!
> 
> The next chapter scoots us back to November and the kids' trip to Hollywood. I've been looking forward to this one ever since I decided it was going to happen!!
> 
> I'm on tumblr!! [More-or-less fic specific/fifties blog](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/) and my [Mostly-Tolkien-but-other-awesome-stuff blog](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/slKaX0U)
> 
> It's a beautiful Sunday morning. Probably the most beautiful morning in recent memory, if you were to ask Thorin and Bilbo.
> 
> The kids get ready to hit the big city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a very solid "T". No new tags. In this chapter we see Thorin and Dis' mama smoking. And I know it was mentioned that mama doesn't want Thorin smoking and that's because he's underage. I feel that she's the kind of parent who wouldn't want her kids to be seen out in the world doing things, like smoking, that are considered adult activities. When Thorin's an adult and can pay his own way in the world, then he can do adult things, but until then...mama says "no!" (I recently saw the trailer for the film Tobey Maguire did about chess prodigy Bobby Fischer and one of the rating warnings was "historical smoking" which I thought was an interesting way to say "people smoke in this movie and smoking is bad, but everyone did back then, so there!". It made me chuckle.

**Sunday morning, November 9, 1958**

_Just wanna be_  
_Your teddy bear_  
_Put your chain around my neck_  
_And lead me anywhere_  
_Oh, let me be_  
_(Oh, let me be)_  
_Your teddy bear_

**Knock! Knock!**

There was no answer...nothing. Well, almost nothing. Nothing besides the frantic caterwauling of a hopped-up hillbilly coming through the tinny speaker of an AM radio. If Dís kept up at this rate they would most definitely be late in picking up Bilbo. Thorin let loose an annoyed sigh and beat on the bathroom door again.

"DÍS!"

The radio clicked off and the door jerked open, but only wide enough to allow a put-out teenager to glare up at her older brother.

"What?" Dís tried to blink dramatically, but she had, so-far, only succeeded at applying only one of her set of eyelashes and the effect was rather lop-sided. If it had been any other day, Thorin would've laughed at his sister but he had other, more important things, on his mind and wasn't in a laughing mood.

"We're going to be late."

Dís had gone into the bathroom that morning, armed with her radio, make-up, and a mission; and while she had been involved in making herself over into the picture perfect image of a modern young woman in the first stages of most delicate, flower-like bloom, she had completely forgotten about the time. She huffed impatiently. "Well...go call him, then. Please?"

Thorin had wanted to avoid that. He didn't want Bilbo to think for even a second that he was being stood up, that the ringing phone was a warning that he was about to be told that last night was a mistake. Thorin ached thinking about what would go through his boyfriend...

(Boyfriend! Bilbo Baggins was his _boyfriend_! Whaddaya know about that!)

...his boyfriend's mind. But arriving late would be just as bad, if not worse...Damn! He rested his head against the door jamb. Well, at least he'd have the pleasure of hearing that precious voice earlier than later. And he would put the nix on any worry he heard as fast as he could.

"Alright, I'll call him." Thorin straightened up and peered down at the girl, "Hurry up, will ya?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Dís shoved the door closed, "o.k! Just five more minutes." The radio was turned back on.

  
_Well, when you hear that music you can't sit still_  
_If your brother won't rock then your sister will_  
_Ooo...C'mon everyboDY!_  


"Better only be five," he mumbled to the closed door before making his way to the kitchen.

"What are you yelling at your sister for?" Mama asked, sitting at the kitchen table. She was deeply engrossed in her week-end ritual of a bagel and lox, coffee, the L.A. Times spread out on the table in front of her, and the soft sounds of KFWB's Sunday morning programming floating out of the radio on the kitchen counter. With a sheer, pink scarf wrapped around the curlers in her hair, she took a drag off her cigarette before tapping the ashes into the souvenir ashtray she had picked up in Palm Springs on her last trip there with her late husband. Thorin wished he could light up, himself. A smoke would go a long way to rounding out the edges.

"She's taking forever in the bathroom, we're going to be late." He eyed the bagels on the counter but decided his stomach wasn't up for company.

Mama looked up from her paper. "I thought you didn't have to get the car back to Balin until 6?"

Thorin sat down across from his mother. "We're taking a friend...my friend...along."

Mama took another drag. "Really? Which one of them is actually interested in literature?"

"It's my friend...Bilbo...you know, the kid we took to the movies last night."

Mama nodded, turning the page of the entertainment section. "That's right. Just moved here."

"Yeah, that's him." Thorin stole a small piece of lox that had fallen off mama's bagel. "Dís invited him to come along with us today."

Looking up, mama eyed her son over the tops of her rhinestone-studded reading glasses. "Did she? And he's a nice boy?"

"Yeah, mama, real nice." Thorin said, struggling to appear as indifferent as possible.

"I take it he's not one of your regular crowd?"

Thorin couldn't help but laugh. "No...definitely not one of them."

"Alright then. You keep an eye on him. Make sure he's a gentleman around her."

Thorin nodded as he remembered the previous night, a certain back seat, and what he had discovered there...about himself and a certain gentlemanly friend...and it brought on a case of the stomach flutters. He would've sworn he could feel that little bit of salmon he'd just swallowed bouncing around in there. "Of course, mama."

Mama smiled at her almost grown-up son, sitting across from her, looking so much like his father. "Are you going to call this Bilbo and let him know you're going to be late?"

"Yeah." Thorin stood up, "I was just about to do that." But he wasn't about to call from the kitchen phone. Taking a glance at the wall clock over the stove, there was no longer a question of them being late. He walked through the dining room and into the living room. Looking back to make sure mama was once again engrossed in her paper, swinging her foot in time to the radio, he settled down in the armchair next to the walnut end table on which sat a shiny black phone. He dug out the piece of paper he'd transferred to his trouser pocket. It was starting to look a little worse for wear, but he could still make out Bilbo's curiously strong but elegant handwriting. Picking up the receiver, Thorin stuck his finger into the dial, dragged it along the circular path, and then let it go.

++++++++

Bilbo took a sip from his glass of orange juice and watched the late morning sunlight play on the surface of the pool. He leaned back in his chair, taking in a deep breath of cool air, hoping it would calm his excited nerves. Stealing yet another glance at his watch, he saw only two minutes had passed since the last time he'd checked. It was now 10:30 a.m. Only thirty more minutes.

"Mom...how did you know you were in love with dad?" Bilbo asked as he took another scoop of diced fruit tossed in falernum syrup from the Waterford crystal serving bowl.

"I remember the day." Belladonna said, smiling at her son. She picked a maraschino cherry off her plate and popped it in her mouth. "I was walking back to my dorm after choir practice...senior year...and I realized that I never wanted another day to go by without seeing his face and hearing his voice. A year later we were married."

Bilbo wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and laughed, "And six months later I was born."

"It was close," Bella had always been open and honest with her son and that included not hiding the fact that she'd been pregnant with him, 13 weeks along, when she and Bungo had tied the knot in Golden Gate Park on a surprisingly sunny afternoon in early April. "But luckily you didn't start to really show until after the honeymoon."

"I'm happy to know that I was an accommodating fetus."

"Well...for the most part...the morning sickness was hell. I had to throw up behind a tree right before walking down the aisle. Your Aunt Belba helped hold my veil and dress away from any splatter. She was almost successful." Bella laughed at the look of horror on her son's face. "Oh, it wasn't as all bad as you might think. I felt wonderful through the entire ceremony and managed to keep down everything I ate at the reception...the cake was magnificent."

A memory surfaced, an exciting and scandalous reminder of the young woman Belladonna had been. It was so vivid in her mind, as if it had just happened the day before, that she couldn't help blushing, "I remember the ride from the park to the Fairmont...it's probably a good thing I was already pregnant or you would've been conceived in the back seat of your grandfather's Rolls Royce." She reached over and patted her son's arm...the poor boy looked pale. "I'm sorry sweetheart, it's probably the last thing a boy wants to know about his parents, that they had all the self-control of a pair of alley cats."

Bilbo smiled at his mother and finished off the last pieces of diced orange on his plate. He didn't think he should share his own experience of the previous night, in a backseat with a boy he had just gotten used to calling "friend". No, stories like that were saved specifically to embarrass nearly grown children. He smashed a slice of banana with the tines of his fork. "Do you ever regret marrying him?"

Bella looked at Bilbo, sitting in the chair next to her at the cast iron table where they often took breakfast and lunch (weather permitting...and it usually did). So bright and handsome, just like his father and she was again reminded that he was still Bungo's son just as much as he was her own...the boy her husband had loved as best he knew how but hadn't stuck around to watch grow to be a man. She shook her head.

"No. I don't regret it for a moment. He gave me the greatest gift I could've ever asked for." She reached over and laid her small, thin hand on his and squeezed. "I love you, sweetheart."

Bilbo blinked away tears and raised his mom's hand to his lips and kissed it. "I love you too, mom." He hesitated a moment before saying his next words which he prefaced with a clearing of his throat and a hard swallow. "Last night...Thorin told me he loved me."

"Did he?" Bella leaned back in her chair, equal parts surprised, delighted, and worried. This had happened awfully quick and she had yet to meet this boy who had stolen her son's heart. "And what did you say in return?"

"I told him I loved him, too. And I think I really do, mom. I know I haven't known him that long, and there's a lot I don't know about him, but I want to know. And what I do know I...I adore everything about him! I don't want to go a day without seeing him or hearing him talk...or laugh. I love his laugh. I love knowing how soft and kind he is...on the inside...when everyone else knows him to be tough...hard...on the outside. He's so special to me, mom...and I really think I'm special to him."

Belladonna couldn't help but giggle at her smitten boy, "So, I take it was a good kiss."

Bilbo blushed and spread mashed banana across his plate, "It was a couple of very good kisses."

Just then the glass back door opened and Eunice, the woman who took over house duties from Maria Ellena on Sundays, softly called out, "Excuse me, ma'am, but there's a phone call for the young master."

Bilbo's heart jumped up into his throat before plummeting to his stomach and he felt his face go cold. He turned to face the woman, "For me?"

Eunice nodded, "A man. He gave his name as Thorin."

Bilbo looked at his mother's concerned face before nodding, "Thank you, I'll be right there."

"Sweetheart," Bella said, hoping to God her hunch was right, "he's probably calling to say he's running late. You did say his little sister is going with you."

"Yeah...I did." Bilbo stood up, nodding. He couldn't hope that she was right. If last night was indeed a mistake, he'd like to start tucking the memory away, right away, so he could hold onto it, like the rarest of gems, for the rest of his life.

"Well, there you go...she's probably locked away in the bathroom. I remember being a teenage girl, getting ready to go anywhere took an awful lot of time."

Bilbo forced a smile, "Excuse me." He left the sunny backyard for the cool of the inside where his brown oxfords clicked on the tile flooring. Eunice motioned to the butler's pantry, where the receiver lay on the counter beside the phone. He picked it up with a numb hand and took a deep breath before pressing it to his ear.

"Hello. Thorin?" Fear caused his voice to catch in his throat and he wondered if the person on the other end heard him at all.

Thorin released the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. He had heard Bilbo...never could he mistake his boyfriend's sweet voice as it tingled in his ear, but there was also no mistake that it was drenched in worry. Damn! He had known this would happen.

"Bilbo? Oh baby, it is **so** good to hear your voice." He cooed, trying to sound as upbeat and loving as he could while not raising his voice too loud. This was a conversation mama did not need to hear.

The dread in Bilbo's chest loosened its grip. Thorin sounded happy to be talking to him...perhaps mom was right after all. "It is really good to hear you, too. What's going on?"

"Oh...the brat's taking her sweet time in the bathroom with every stick of make-up she owns. You'd think she was about to try out for the circus or something. So...we're going to be late, is all. I didn't want to call...I didn't want you to think I was bailing on you. You know, I'd never do that to you."

The relief...pure, sweet, beautiful relief...that flooded Bilbo's body left him feeling like he was floating some ten feet above the floor. He laughed at the image of Dís, powder brush in hand, very serious in her attempt at making herself up like one of those bright young starlets, ready for her chance to be discovered. "No...I know...thank you...that's fine. Mom and I are just sitting by the pool, talking. I think she's trying to break some kind of record with how many times she can embarrass me before lunch."

Looking out the window, Thorin watched the Campos family, returning home from mass, pull into the drive-way across the street in Mr. Campos' old Studebaker. "How is your mom?"

Bilbo wrapped the phone cord around his finger and leaned against the counter, "She's good. This morning she seems to be feeling pretty good, all things considered. She...uhm...she wants to meet you."

"Does she?" Thorin's stomach clamped down on that lonely speck of salmon. He had never considered meeting Bilbo's mother and he quickly discovered that the idea scared him.

"Mmmm-hmmm...she wants to get to know the man who's swept her son off his feet."

Thorin tore his gaze from the Sunday morning tableau of Lambert Street and settled back into the overstuffed chair that had been his father's favorite. He took a deep breath. How bad could it be? This was the woman who had created the man he loved...how could she be anything but wonderful? "I think I can do that. I'd love to meet your mom."

Just then, Bilbo could hear a distant, but familiar, girl's voice yelling on the other end of the line.

"I'm ready Thorin, let's GO!" Dís stood in the doorway between the living room and the dining room, primped and powdered and wearing a short string of mama's pearls.

Thorin placed his hand over the mouth piece of the receiver and glared at his sister. "Don't yell, will ya? I'm on the phone!"

Dís smoothed her skirt down over the full petticoat she wore underneath it, "Is it Bilbo? Tell him we're leaving now."

"I am."

"Well, do it, then."

Brother stared at sister, who evidently had never bothered to learn how to read minds. Thorin shook his head, "Not with you standing there staring at me like a duck."

"How do ducks stare?"

"DÍS!"

"Thorin," mama hollered from the kitchen, "stop yelling at your sister!"

"Tell her to stop listening to my phone conversation!"

"Dís, darling, stop bugging your brother. Come, let mama take a look at you."

Thorin waited until Dís disappeared into the kitchen before returning the receiver to his ear, "Sorry about that." He could hear Bilbo laughing and it made him smile.

"It's really quite o.k. Your sister is a hoot!"

"Yeah, she's a regular screech owl." Thorin listened to Bilbo giggle. "Hey, baby," he all but whispered, "I missed you."

"You did?"

"I do. I haven't stopped thinking about you once."

A shiver passed through Bilbo's body and he felt lightheaded, "I love you, Thorin."

"I love you, too."

"Good." Bilbo's grin was so wide it was beginning to hurt, "Now get your ass over here and pick me up!"

Thorin laughed. "You got it, man."

"Later, dad." Bilbo gently set the receiver down on the phone's cradle, bit his lower lip, and let rip a howl of pure joy. Last night hadn't been a mistake! Even now, in the unforgiving light of day, Thorin **loved** him. He was shaken out of his euphoria when Eunice poked her head into the pantry.

"Is everything alright, sir?"

Bilbo tried to fight his smile but gave up, "I'm sorry...everything's perfect! Hey, are you baking cookies?"

++++++++

The front garden of 2941 Acorn Lane was a study in controlled chaos. And it was beautiful. Roses bloomed in great pink and yellow clusters on thorny bushes under the front windows. Brick-lined paths wound about plots of lush, over-grown grass. Terra cotta planters stood wherever there seemed to be room, flowers spilling over the sides in a riot of colors. And, walking down the path from the front door, was the most beautiful thing of all. Thorin wrapped his hands around the cast-iron curves that decorated the gate and watched Bilbo walk casually towards him, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other gripping a brown paper bag. He smiled at Thorin as brightly as the morning sun that shone down on them.

"Good morning, Mr. Durin." Bilbo said, as casually as he could manage, "And a very fine morning it is."

Thorin looked Bilbo up and down; from the honey blonde curls falling soft and free over the tops of his glasses, to the smart, royal blue jacket, and on down to polished brown, cap-toed oxfords. "A very fine morning." He sighed through his crooked smile.

"Shhh..." Bilbo mock-scolded as he pulled his gate key out of his pocket, "You don't want anyone to hear you. They might get ideas."

"Let them."

Bilbo brushed his fingertips across his boyfriend's fingers where they held onto the gate. Thorin's breath caught in his throat as a shock of adrenalin raced through his body and he reached through the bars and took ahold of that hand, squeezing it. "Look who's talking about handing out ideas."

Bilbo looked at the hand that held his; at the dark hairs that decorated the back of it and disappeared under white shirt cuffs, at thick knuckles bearing the faint traces of old scars, at the silver ring from ancient and mysterious Cairo...he wanted to press a kiss to that hand, but instead he looked out at the street, at the car parked at the curb, and at Dís' face pressed to the window. He pulled his hand out of Thorin's. "Your sister's watching."

"Shit." Thorin mumbled, as Bilbo unlocked the gate. "Baby, I'm sorry..."

"Not another word," Bilbo said with a smile tucked into the corner of his mouth. He stepped outside and locked the gate behind him. Turning to face Thorin, his heart picked up speed now that nothing stood between them and, for the first time in the bright and honest light of day, they looked at each other...in love with one another.

"Hi." Bilbo said, feeling exhilarated and exposed, as if he were strapped to the front of one of those rocket cars often seen in news reels, speeding along miles of open salt flats. He shoved his free hand back in his pocket in an attempt to ground the feeling of wild excitement burbling under his skin.

"You look...dashing," Thorin said, a touch out of breath as his heart pounded away in his chest. Reaching out, he lightly touched the smooth pile of Bilbo's jacket. "What is this...velveteen?"

"Thank you, sir." Bilbo bowed his head, thrilled by the compliment, "And no, it's velvet."

"There's a difference?" Thorin cocked his head.

"Yes." Bilbo nodded slowly as he looked right up into those brilliant blue eyes and he lingered there for a second before performing his own appraisal. Gone was the black leather and in its place was a handsome blue and grey houndstooth sport coat; the cut a bit out of date, but that didn't matter because Thorin filled it beautifully. And, instead of grease stained dungarees and motorcycle boots, he wore dark blue trousers with a matching tie and shiny black derbies on his feet. For a moment, Bilbo was at a loss for words.

"I think you look real sharp," he admitted when he found his voice. He ran his hand down Thorin's lapel. "There're also a couple other words I'd like to use, but I'll save those until later."

"I'd only buy that coming from you, you know." Thorin struggled with an almost overpowering need to reach out and touch Bilbo, to caress and fondle him...perform a complete repeat of the pervious night...but instead he managed to channel that energy into standing up proud and tall, towering over his boyfriend who looked up at him with green eyes twinkling behind recently polished glasses. Thorin tugged at the hem of his jacket. "It was Pop's. All of it was, even the shoes. Ma still goes on about how he was always the most handsome man in the room, no matter where they went."

Bilbo could very well imagine that. He licked his lips. "The apple didn't fall too far from the tree."

Blushing, it was now Thorin's turn to shove his hands in his pockets.

"What's the hold up? Let's get going, already!" Dís' head poked out of the passenger side door she had managed to open from the back seat. She had gotten restless watching her brother and his friend talk and, apparently, admiring each other's clothes, which had to be a first for Thorin. It was a miracle mama got him to dress like a normal human being and not in his usual grease monkey get up. She had made it very clear that no son of hers was going to be seen in Hollywood, walking amongst the rich and famous, looking like a delinquent. Both boys quickly turned; Thorin glared while Bilbo smiled. It was such a cute smile.

"Good morning, Miss Dís!"

"A top of the morning to you, Mr. Baggins. Whaddaya have there?" Dís motioned at the bag in Bilbo's hand. "Your lunch?"

"Oh goodness no," Bilbo laughed and held up the bag. "I hope you like chocolate chip cookies, hot out of the oven."

"Do I ever!" Dís bounced on the edge of the seat as Bilbo got in the car. "Did you bake them yourself?"

"No...although I could, you know. Eunice made these."

"Is she one of your hundreds of aunts?" Thorin asked, sliding in behind the wheel.

Bilbo opened the bag and the smell of freshly baked cookies...of vanilla, brown sugar, butter, and chocolate...wafted through the interior of the car. "No," he said, handing Dís a small, warm bundle wrapped in wax paper. "She's my grandmother's week-end housekeeper."

Dís tapped her brother on the shoulder, "You need to start making a lot of money when you get out of school so mama can have a housekeeper. I want hot cookies every morning."

Thorin turned in time to see his sister bite into a still-soft-and-gooey cookie, "How about you make them yourself."

"Mmmm...this is really good!" Dís gushed, ignoring her brother. "Thank you so much, Bilbo!"

"You're very welcome. Would you like a cookie?" Bilbo asked Thorin, who gave him a look as if he had just asked a trick question.

"You know I would."

Bilbo inhaled some oxygen back into his brain as he pulled a cookie out of the bag. He made sure to blow on it before handing it over. "It's still hot."

Thorin took a bite and it was warm and sweet and delicious and everything a chocolate chip cookie should be, but it wasn't what he really wanted at that moment. So he did the only thing he could do and that was watch Bilbo eat his own cookie, finding the greatest pleasure when a plump, pink tongue licked a smear of chocolate from rose petal lips. When a handkerchief was pulled out to wipe clean sticky fingers, Thorin noticed the initials _BPB_ embroidered in one corner. He would have to remember to ask Bilbo what the _P_ stood for, even if that meant giving up a secret of his own.

Bilbo couldn't help noticing when Thorin started licking his own chocolate-stained fingers. And he quickly realized that he could watch him do that for hours, but they didn't have hours and they had a little sister in the backseat and he wondered if this was all meant to be some kind of test. For surely, if he could maintain his composure in sight of Thorin with his fingers in his mouth and his tongue...

Taking a deep breath, he suddenly remembered the thing he had in his pocket, the thing he had made sure to press and fold into a neat square that morning. Pulling the red bandana out, he held it out to Thorin. "I think you could probably use this. It's clean...I swear."

Thorin looked at the bandana in Bilbo's hand and couldn't help chuckling. The last time he had seen it...well, the less he thought about that was all the better, at least while Dis sat just behind him. He took it from Bilbo, thanking him. "You didn't iron this, did you?"

"Of course I did; hand washed, air dried, and ironed. I considered starching it, but figured you would prefer it soft."

Thorin looked down at the bandana, with its permanent grease stains, and thought about how Bilbo had shown it more care in the few hours he had had it than in all the time it had been in Thorin's possession. His eyes met Bilbo's and his mouth opened and words hung there, right on his tongue and Bilbo nodded. He saw them there and he understood. Thorin unfolded the bandana and wiped his fingers clean. It seemed almost wrong to dirty it now.

"Thank you." Thorin said, his voice low and thick.

"It was all my pleasure." Bilbo smiled at him, his eyes saying more than his words.

"No," Thorin lightly punched him in the arm, _needing_ the physical contact, "not all of it."

"Let's get going, already!" Dís grumbled, eager to get to Hollywood, the money mama had given her for books burning a hole in her handbag. Thorin turned the key in the ignition. The Chevy's engine roared like a lion and the machine came to life around them, causing the seats to vibrate in a way Thorin felt was bordering on obscene. He carefully adjusted himself as he watched Bilbo shift and squirm, unable to get comfortable.

"Everything o.k.?"

Bilbo nodded, smoothing his hands over his gabardine-covered thighs and tugging his trousers at the knees. He rolled his window down a few inches.

"Is it just me, or is it warm in here?" Bilbo asked, chuckling awkwardly.

"Red hot, kid," Thorin said, cracking his window as well.

Bilbo looked up at his boyfriend, who he wanted so badly to touch but couldn't. And Thorin looked down at the boyfriend he wanted so badly to kiss but couldn't.

"Come on, pal," Bilbo said with a wink aimed just at him, "you heard the little lady...let's hit it like we got heels on fire!"

Thorin laughed as he gunned the engine, "Your wish is mine, Clyde."

As the Bel Air pulled onto the quiet Sunday streets of Pasadena, Dís decided she'd eaten enough cookies and put the few she had left to the side. Relaxing back in her seat, she fluffed her skirt over her petticoat in a manner she figured could only be considered regal and watched the world pass by, eventually going from the known of her hometown to the not so known of big city Los Angeles. They hadn't even gotten to Hollywood yet and she was already having the time of her life; looking pretty while being chauffeured around in a big, fancy car by two handsome fellas (even if one of them was her big brother) and singing along to every song she knew that came on the radio. And it was even better when Bilbo sang along and he seemed to know all the best songs, even the so-called silly ones that only girls were supposed to like...

_I feel so fine_  
_Now that you are mine_  
_Gotta a tingle_  
_Up and down my spine_

_It's true_  
_'Cause me got you_  
_La dee dah, oh boy_  
_Let's go_  
_Cha, cha, cha_

And when she caught him winking at her in the rear-view mirror, she couldn't help feeling like she'd won some kind of great distinction.

"Ha!" she thought, her cheeks darker than the blush she had carefully applied, "Eat your heart out, Princess Grace!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Songwriting Credits**  
> [ _(Let Me Be Your) Teddy Bear_](https://youtu.be/TiOs1V-i8eY)  
>  written by Kal Mann and Bernie Lowe, 1957
> 
> [ _C'mon Everybody_](https://youtu.be/LRjlZ8x2uQM)  
>  written by Eddie Cochran and Jerry Capehart, 1958
> 
> [ _La Dee Dah_](https://youtu.be/Q2O5JJx_hoA)  
>  written by Bob Crewe, 1958  
> (If I can be responsible for just one person falling in love with this song, I will feel my time on this planet has been well spent...I LOVE IT SOOOO MUCH!!!!)
> 
> I nearly had kittens the other day when I came across an [ article about the 1920's Hollywood estate that had belonged to Mexican film star Dolores del Rio, on the website californiahome.me](http://www.californiahome.me/2015/05/dolores-del-rios-1920s-hollywood-estate-takes-home-the-ariel/). The reason for this is that it is almost exactly how I imagine 2941 Acorn Lane to look like. If you check out the website, there's a video that shows the home, inside and out, including some photographs from way back in the day. There are a couple of things I would change, but otherwise it is near perfect. Here's the swimming pool...  
> [](http://s1081.photobucket.com/user/fangirly_squeal/media/ddr%20acorn%20lane_zps7jaf6xhv.jpg.html)
> 
> *SWOON!*
> 
> I have Belladonna and Bungo Baggins spending their wedding night at the [ Fairmont Hotel](http://www.fairmont.com/san-francisco/) in San Francisco. It is, in my opinion, the swankiest hotel in San Francisco, situated at the top of Nob Hill. There are a number of hotels I could've chosen (my initial choice was the St. Francis at Union Square) but the Fairmont is an old and venerable part of the San Francisco landscape (it opened in 1907) and it has the distinction of being the location of my High School Senior Prom (San Marin HS class of '87!) so...it won! It also has one of the coolest bars ever...The Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar, which opened in 1945. It has an indoor lagoon and periodic "rainstorms". It is considered one of the finest examples of "high style" Tiki bar/restaurant in the country. If you visit San Francisco DON'T MISS THIS! According to the Fairmont's website, the Happy Hour buffet is only $10 per person (with only a one drink minimum) which is ridiculously inexpensive
> 
> For those of you who might not know...[Princess Grace of Monaco](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grace_Kelly) started out her life of beauty and glamour as American screen actress Grace Kelly, starring opposite such leading men as Cary Grant and Jimmy Stewart and making three films with legendary director Alfred Hitchcock. At the age of 26 she retired from film to marry Prince Rainier of Monaco and she became a real life princess. She died tragically young, at the age of 52. 
> 
> Thanks to everybody who has left comments and kudos...I appreciate every single one!
> 
> I'm on tumblr! I have my all-purpose blog [bofursunboundbraids](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/) and a [fifties/fic specific blog](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/) (which will be updated more often now that I know I can create a queue using the mobile app...YAY!!!)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/XF5F0Sy)
> 
> _"It's Ray Bradbury!"_
> 
> _"No kidding." Thorin took a look, "I've read some of his stuff before."_
> 
> _Bilbo was positively giddy. "He's my very favorite! I mean, like, the end-all-be-all of writers! He's here!"_
> 
> _Dís sidled up next to Bilbo. "I dig that guy's stories...especially the spooky ones. They always make me have to sleep with my lamp on."_
> 
> _"What time is it, professor?" Thorin asked, restraining himself from grabbing Bilbo's wrist and checking his watch like he had the night before._
> 
> _"Three mintutes till."_
> 
> _Thorin nudged Bilbo softly with his arm, "What are you waiting for?" He walked over and opened the glass front door. "Shall we?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me say how sorry I am that this chapter took so long. I blame it on a combination of reading I needed to do for it, a head cold that showed up out of nowhere, and anxiety over getting this one right. I think I did. 
> 
> No new tags for this one...I actually give this chapter a solid "G" rating...fun for the whole family (and that includes excited, 14 year old sisters)
> 
> A month or so ago, I got an anonymous message on my tumblr from the wonderful person who had requested the wonderful art that inspired this story. I don't know who this person is, but I want to dedicate this chapter to YOU...whoever you are...Thank you so, SO much!

**HOLLYWOOD...**

was leaving quite a bit to be desired. At least in Bilbo's mind. It wasn't that he had expected to catch a glimpse of Cary Grant or Elizabeth Taylor walking down streets paved in gold like the yellow brick to Oz. It was just that he hadn't expected it to look quite so... _ordinary_. Hollywood Boulevard was nothing more than a wide canyon of a thoroughfare lined by buildings; utilitarian and, to be quite honest, rather run-down. Shoe repairs, pawn brokers, bars, all-nite diners, and the occasional movie theater, sailed by, their only distinction a sort of sordid tackiness punctuated by the neon signs that flashed behind many a dirty window. Even the ubiquitous palm tree of chic Beverly Hills was in short supply with only one popping up here and there along the route. And all of this led Bilbo to come to the conclusion that Hollywood was the down and dirty business side of...well...Hollywood.

Without voicing any of his decidedly negative opinions regarding the landscape, Bilbo continued to enjoy the ride. And it had been a fun ride; singing and talking and laughing. Even sitting a respectable distance away from Thorin was all it took, apparently, to render Bilbo the very picture of contentment. Gone was any trace of the self-consciousness he'd felt the previous evening and in its place was a confidence that allowed him to joke around with Dís as if she were his own sister. And with Thorin, well, anyone watching would have believed them to be the oldest and closest of pals and nothing more. It gave Bilbo a warm, peaceful feeling inside to know that what was growing between them was affixed to a firm foundation of friendship. And that, he thought, was more important than all of the kisses in the world.

Dís was quietly singing along with The Chantels when Bilbo turned to her and asked the question that had been on his mind since the start of their journey. 

"What are you doing in the backseat?"

"Thorin told me I was too fluffy to sit up front with you." Dís grumbled as she pulled out a cookie.

"Fluffy?" Bilbo giggled, shifting his questioning gaze from Dís to her smirking brother. Thorin shrugged.

"Little girl decided to pull out all the stops today. Go on and take a look. She's taking up half the back seat."

Bilbo took a good look over the back of the seat and saw that Thorin wasn't exaggerating. It wasn't every day Dís got to go on an excursion into Los Angeles, and even rarer were those trips without mama. She had wanted to mark the occasion by looking her very best, and for her that meant wearing her light grey angora sweater and her favorite pale pink circle skirt over a very full crinoline petticoat. Her jet-black curly hair was pulled back on the sides and held in place with rhinestone clips shaped like bows. And around her neck she wore a short, single strand of pearls. Her make-up was clean and fresh, the false eyelashes accentuating her dark brown eyes. "You look," Bilbo kissed the tips of his fingers, " _bellissima_!

Dís figured she should take that as a compliment, but wanted to make sure. "That's good, right?"

Bilbo nodded, smiling, "You look very pretty."

"Thanks!" Dís said around a mouthful of cookie.

"Hey, kiddo!" Thorin cast a quick glance in the rear view mirror. "Don't go eating all those cookies...I don't need you crabbing because you've got a belly ache."

Dís defiantly licked chocolate off her fingers, "You're the only belly ache here!"

Bilbo tried to cover his chuckle with his hand, failing completely when Thorin rolled his eyes at his sister's snarky remark. "Kids!" Thorin lamented, dramatically, "You try to do something nice for them..."

"Speaking of doing something nice," Bilbo turned back to Dís, "Thank you for inviting me along, today. I really appreciate it."

"Sure!" Dís said, puffed up and preening, fluffing her skirt over her petticoat, "I knew Thorin would never think of it."

"Oh..." Bilbo inched closer to his boyfriend and slid his hand slowly over the seat until it bumped into a leg. "He would've gotten around to it eventually." Laying his hand on that leg, he squeezed, gently. Thorin risked a quick glance and caught a smile for his trouble. Bilbo tossed his head to the side in attempt to flip his hair out of his eyes and all Thorin wanted to do was feel those strands in his hands, between his fingers, on his lips. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to control the thundering in his chest, and with his eyes now locked on the road, he laid his hand over Bilbo's, covering it, and gently picked it up and laid it in the other's lap.

"Sorry," Bilbo whispered. Thorin shook his head and Bilbo could see he was smiling.

"So," Dís popped up, suddenly, between them, her chin resting on her hands on the back of the seat, "what did you guys do last night after you dropped me off? Thorin told me it was none of my bees."

Bilbo's cheeks burned. He had to look away as, on the screen behind his eyes, he watched snatches of technicolor playback; astride Thorin's lap, their hearts pressed together, hot breath, and the scratch of bearded kisses on his neck, the most delicious friction...

He swallowed before shaking his head, "Well, far be it for me to break the code."

"Code?" 

Bilbo nodded, "Oh yes! The sacred code between men...it's forbidden to give away any of our secrets to the uninitiated."

"Uninitiated?" Dís screwed up her face, confused. "Awww...you mean girls! Fine. Probably something I don't want to know about anyway. Off being delinquents or something." Dís slumped back in her seat, her arms crossed. "Thorin's a bad influence, just so you know." She said before sighing loudly and staring out the side window. "Mama's always saying that if he doesn't watch himself he's going to end up in jail one of these days."

Before Thorin could lay into his sister, Bilbo laid his hand over his heart and put on his most melodramatic expression of shock. "Is it truly as bad as all that?"

Dís nodded, "Yes it is. One of these days..."

"Well then," Bilbo cut her off, "I take it upon myself to help keep your beloved but... _deeply_ troubled brother on the right path."

Thorin pulled up to a red light and looked at Bilbo who could not mistake the love he saw in those blue eyes and that damned crooked grin. "Is that a promise?"

Bilbo dragged his finger over his heart in a criss-cross. "I swear to it."

"Mama's going to love you, Bilbo." Dís proclaimed, unaware of the tension that was simmering in the front seat. "You're the kind of friend she's always wanted Thorin to have."

"I've been told I'm a very good influence." Bilbo noticed the light had turned green before Thorin and pointed at the traffic light as the car behind them honked. "It's our turn." 

"Well, that's a good thing." Dís said, pushing her last remaining cookies across the seat, away from her, "Otherwise, you'd probably end up in jail, too."

Bilbo chuckled as Thorin sighed a half-hearted "Dís" and turned his attention back to the scenery. And that's when he saw something that did interest him. It was a large, green sign on top of a low, block of a building. In big white letters was spelled out **_Musso & Frank Grill_**. This, he knew, was the eatery, one of the oldest in the city, where many of the glittering stars of Hollywood could be found. He also knew it was where some of his favorite writers had spent time, working on their novels at the bar while enjoying a liquid lunch. He couldn't help but scoot closer to the window to get a better look as they drove by.

"See something good?" Thorin asked.

"Just something I've heard of." Bilbo sat back, tucking away the restaurant's location for another time. 

"Oh yeah? Hey," Thorin squeezed his right hand in a tight fist, remembering just in time that Bilbo's thigh was off-limits, "keep your eyes open for a parking place, we're almost there."

Dís immediately bounced up, her neck stretching forward as she scanned the street for a spot. Los Angeles was the kind of city that eschewed such conventions as Sunday as a day of rest. The traffic on the boulevard just shy of high noon was only a few cars and a bus or two short of normal week-day traffic, making parking tricky. Luckily, a space presented itself, about half a block east of their destination. With blinker on, Thorin parallel-parked the Bel Air with the ease that came from many hours spent maneuvering cars in and around the garage. 

After setting the emergency brake, Thorin shut off the engine. "We have arrived!"

Bilbo pushed the door open and stepped out into the hazy sunshine. As he held the door open for Dís, he took in a deep breath. There was no mistaking where he was; L.A. air possessed a certain metallic tang, so different from San Francisco's fog, laced with sea salt. Thorin appeared at his side, shutting the car door for him before laying a warm, heavy hand on his shoulder. A shiver raced through Bilbo, from scalp to the tips of his toes, as his boyfriend leaned down and spoke in his ear.

"You ready for this?"

Bilbo nodded. "Yes."

Thorin patted Bilbo on the back, "You are really going to like it!"

"Whadda ya mean? He's gonna LOVE it!" Dís proclaimed before turning on her heel and striding off purposefully, her fluffy skirts flouncing about her knees and the straw purse her Aunt Susan brought back from Hawaii swinging gaily.

Bilbo couldn't help but gawk. Pickwick Bookshop sat on the corner of Hollywood and McCadden, rising three stories above the busy street, and it was truly impressive. A big red sign that read **BOOKS** hung off the side of the building and the street level was lined with a row of wide windows, giving passers-by a good look at all that lay within. Bilbo felt positively giddy at the sheer magnitude of the place and OH! if he could've given Thorin a kiss of gratitude at that moment...

A poster in the window caught his attention. It featured a black and white picture of a middle-aged, bespectacled man with a dreamy gaze in his eyes.

**Pickwick Books is proud to welcome  
Ray Bradbury  
Sunday, November 9 at Noon**

Bilbo read the words over a couple of times before checking his watch...and then checking his watch again. Mr. Ray Bradbury! THE Ray Bradbury! Here...right here in this very building...TODAY! And in five minutes no less! He was rendered almost completely speechless, only managing something like the kind of squeak that used to pop out of his mouth when his voice was changing. He pointed at the poster and looked up at Thorin.

"It's Ray Bradbury!"

"No kidding." Thorin took a look, "I've read some of his stuff before."

Bilbo was positively giddy. "He's my very favorite! I mean, like, the end-all-be-all of writers! He's here!"

Dís sidled up next to Bilbo. "I dig that guy's stories...especially the spooky ones. They always make me have to sleep with my lamp on."

"What time is it, professor?" Thorin asked, restraining himself from grabbing Bilbo's wrist and checking his watch like he had the night before.

"Three mintutes till."

Thorin nudged Bilbo softly with his arm, "What are you waiting for?" He walked over and opened the glass front door. "Shall we?"

Bilbo stepped aside to allow Dís to enter first and then followed her inside, Thorin close behind. The first floor was a sea of stationary and office supplies; pens, paper, notebooks, journals...a regular wonderland if you're into that sort of thing. And Bilbo most definitely was, but he couldn't stop to browse, not yet. Thorin asked a woman sitting behind the info counter where the reading was going to take place and they were directed to the reading room on the third floor. The kids made quick work of the creaky stairs and were soon taking some of the last available seats near the back. The crowd that had assembled was of decent size and a pretty even mix of young people and adults, boys and girls, men and women. Suddenly a door opened and a grey haired man wearing a red cardigan sweater and a bow tie appeared. Stepping up to a podium, he tapped the end of the microphone in front of him.

"Hello? Hel...ahhh...Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to Pickwick Books. My name is Louis Epstein and I have the honor of introducing to you one of the great imaginations of our time. Please join me in welcoming Mr. Ray Bradbury."

Bilbo sat up in his chair and watched, clapping along with the rest of the audience, as the door opened and out stepped a man with a face he had seen on numerous dust jackets. Mr. Bradbury had a bright, happy smile on his face and he waved as he made his way to the podium. 

And Bilbo sat, completely entranced by this writer, originally from Waukegan, Illinois, but now an Angeleno. Only a few minutes had passed before he felt he was listening, not to a famous writer of fantasy and science fiction, but to an old friend who took great joy in regaling his listeners with tales of the incredible and the weird. And Mr. Bradbury did share a tale that afternoon; a curious fable about a cruel and terrible creature of mythology come alive, bringing terror with its fire...but, by the end, the audience was reminded that not everything is as it seems and what is one person's perceived horror is another's technological marvel. Bilbo joined in the enthusiastic applause as Dís sat next to him saying, "Ohhh...I liked that one! How does he think of these things?"

"Because he's brilliant," Bilbo answered, "and that's what brilliant people do." He looked to his right just in time to see Thorin smile at him. "What did you think?"

"Fine as wine," was Thorin's response and it made Bilbo giggle.

"Yeah, it was as good as that, wasn't it?" 

"And you'd know?" Thorin raised an eyebrow.

"What do you take me for?" Bilbo asked, giving Thorin his own raised eyebrow, "I was raised by a couple of cool cats. The whole square thing is just part of my cover, but you know that."

Thorin nodded, slowly, and licked his lips. "Do I ever."

"I'm going to go find my books." Dís announced, breaking the tension which allowed some of the blood heating Bilbo's cheeks to travel elsewhere. The reading was over and Mr. Bradbury was ready to receive fans in person and sign copies of his books. 

"You don't want to meet him?" Bilbo asked.

"No...besides, I'd feel weird since I can't get a book signed. I only have enough money to get the ones I came here for." 

"Remember what mama told you about going off by yourself." Thorin reminded his little sister.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I remember; no talking to strange men..."

"And?"

"No leaving the store by myself or with anyone but you. _Sheesh_ , I should've just worn a leash." Dís stood up and performed her skirt fluffing ritual.

Thorin ignored her snippy little quip, "When you're ready to go, come find me, o.k.?"

Dís nodded as she walked away, "Yeah, yeah, sure, sure." And off she went, gliding down the stairs to where the good stuff was.

Bilbo watched Thorin watch Dís until she was no longer in sight. "You're a lucky guy."

"Huh?" Thorin turned to face Bilbo, his smile causing his eyes to crinkle in the corners, "You bet I am." He let his gaze drop from green eyes to a softly curved lower lip.

Bilbo chuckled and looked away, his blush burning bright as ever, "I meant Dís...you're lucky to have her for a sister."

Thorin was silent for a second. He knew exactly how lucky he was and if they had been alone he would've told Bilbo he was the luckiest s.o.b. who ever lived. And why. "I know." He finally answered, allowing his knee to press against his boyfriend's. 

And Bilbo pressed back, warmth tingling through him at the contact and from the heat in Thorin's gaze and the world reduced down to just the two of them, no one else...no one at all. That is until a shifting figure at the very edge of Bilbo's vision caught his attention. Pulling his eyes from Thorin's he saw that someone was intruding. A woman who had been looking through sale books was watching, her face curious in that _deeply-disapproving-but-can't-look-away_ way. Bilbo immediately pulled away and when Thorin gave him a questioning look, all he did was motion to the woman with his head. Turning to look, Thorin immediately assumed an insolent posture; slumping down in his chair, arm hanging over the back, his head lolling on his shoulder. He winked at the woman.

"Whadda ya think of the stackup, Brenda?"

That was all it took to get the woman to immediately redirect herself to the lower level. 

Thorin chuckled softly, "That'll teach her to keep her schnoz out of where it doesn't belong." When Bilbo didn't answer he turned to him. His boy was tucked into his chair, arms crossed across his chest, knees together. Thorin ached to touch him. "Hey, that was nothing to get yourself all bummed out over."

Bilbo shook his head and looked at Thorin who realized Bilbo wasn't upset but trying to hold in his laughter. "No it wasn't...that was magnificent."

"You think so? See...we've got this thing licked! Baby, you and me...we've got 'em licked."

So they sat for a few minutes, aware of one another, basking in the nearness of one another, but not speaking. Bilbo watched as Mr. Bradbury engaged each fan who stood before him. The author was outgoing and friendly and often laughing or making the person in front of him laugh. Thorin looked around at the walls lined in books, at people browsing, their arms full, and he wondered how Dís was doing. A part of him wanted to go find her to make sure she was o.k. Bilbo noticed him fidgeting.

"You don't have to stay here."

Thorin turned to him with a "Huh?"

"It looks like it's probably going to be awhile before it's my turn." Bilbo explained. "I don't want you to feel like you have to stay here, with me."

"What if I want to stay?" Thorin sat back in his seat, his body settling down like a mountain on the crust of the earth. An unmovable object. A stubborn boy.

"I would love it," Bilbo whispered. "But there's so much to see here. You should go. Sneak up on Dís...I'm sure she'd appreciate that."

Thorin looked at the face of the boy he loved. He tapped him on the tip of his nose. "Alright...I think I will." He started to stand up.

"Oh..." Bilbo laid his hand on Thorin's arm. "Just so you know...I'm going to get a book signed for Dís."

"Bilbo," Thorin plopped back down in his seat, "You don't need to keep buying her things."

"We had this discussion last night." Bilbo countered, digging his heels in. Two could play at this stubbornness thing. "I want to do this for her. I have the means to make it happen. Let it happen. She is the reason I'm here right now."

Thorin hung his head, looking up at Bilbo through black lashes. "I would've asked you..."

"I know that. I know...Besides," Bilbo casually regarded his own fingernails, "you asked me something better, if I remember correctly."

Thorin blushed at the memory of asking Bilbo to be his boyfriend, "And I'd ask it again and again."

"And I'd answer the same way, every time."

Wanting to grab the boy sitting next to him, wanting to kiss him until they were both breathless, Thorin decided it would probably be best if he did leave. Besides, there were a couple of things he wanted to pick up for mama. It had been awhile since she'd gotten any of those glossy, high fashion magazines she liked to spend hours pouring over. He slapped Bilbo on the leg.

"Well, I'm off. See ya, kiddo."

" _Ciao, bello_." 

Thorin wasn't exactly sure what that meant, but he sure did like the sound of it. And, feeling like he was walking on a cloud, he made his way to the stairs and descended to the second floor.

Everywhere there were books; on tables, stacked in corners, and on bookcases that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Thorin walked amongst them and the people perusing them, situated here and there like just another part of the architecture. In and around he wandered until he spotted his sister. She sat on a simple wooden bench, a small pile of books at her side with one open in her hands. He realized he had no desire to intrude on her peace. She was no longer the little girl he had to keep an ever watchful eye on, she was growing up and she deserved this moment to be on her own in the world without an over-protective brother hovering over her shoulder. He quietly walked away, realizing that now he was experiencing his own moment, alone in the world. But this was different, much different than any time previous because on the floor above him was the reason, he believed, he would never truly be alone again. So, he wandered the stacks, looking at this and that; everything from manuals for amateur radio operators to cookbooks for the modern homemaker.

Thorin was so happy in his wandering that he paid no mind to the man standing by the back wall, looking over books on the indigenous peoples of the south seas. But the man noticed him. How could he not? He was a professional actor and watching people was all part of the craft. And Thorin, in his eyes, was one of those marvelous characters screenwriters dreamed of creating. One hundred percent pure original. For starters the kid wore whiskers...and he was just a kid, there was no doubt about that. Tall, fair complexioned, black hair, blue eyes, an impressive profile with just a touch of childhood's softness in his cheeks. The actor watched the kid walk around; ambling amongst the books with no clear destination, but it was also clear he wasn't lost. No...what the actor felt he was witnessing were the first bold steps of a newborn. This young man was making his debut in a wholly new body. The actor chuckled, enjoying the sight of a fellow caught in the powerful grip of first love. And it had to be love, although the actor was certain there was something else. This kid carried his love, not in a glassy-eyed swoon, but as if being in love itself were an act of rebellion. The actor snapped his fingers. He had this kid's number and had to get an even closer look.

"Excuse me, sir, I hate to bother you but I was wondering if you could help me with something."

Looking in the direction of the oddly familiar voice, Thorin wondered what help he could possibly offer to someone in a bookstore. Other than the odd adventure tale he had read when he was younger, he didn't have much time for books outside school work, automotive repair manuals, and the odd magazine article. The man was a few inches shorter than him and it took him a couple of moments longer to recognize the face, because one never expects to look down at a face one has seen in mammoth proportions on a movie screen. Thorin never in a million years EVER expected to be looking down at Mr. Marlon Brando. 

"I'm in the mood for something in the way of poetry."

Thorin was still trying to deal with the fact that THE Marlon Brando was standing in front of him, asking him advice about..."Poetry?"

"Yeah, poetry. See, I'm torn; do I go with something classy or some of that beat noise?"

Thorin was struggling to keep it cool. Marlon Brando was asking _him_ for advice about poetry when he knew jack-all. "Way to go, Durin" he grumbled at himself, "way to look like a rube." He shook his head and affected a shy smile, "Sorry, man, I was sick that day," Thorin cringed as the words came out of his mouth, and then he redeemed himself, "...but I've got a friend...upstairs...poetry's his scene."

"You've got a friend...upstairs?" Marlon watched Thorin's face the way a scientist would check out a bug under a microscope. "And if I were to ask your friend?"

"He digs the beat stuff, all that modern jazz, but he'd probably throw some Whitman at you."

"Walt Whitman? So, I take it your friend's a romantic." And Marlon watched a flush spread across Thorin's face as he lost a fight to keep from grinning like an idiot.

"Yeah," Thorin nodded, "he sure is. He loves that stuff."

"As I have learned in this life, friend, romantics make the best friends...hold on tight to this one."

"I will," right then Thorin saw something, in Marlon's expression, something in his eyes, like he knew the whole story of how sometimes a friend is more than just that. "Yeah, man, I will."

Marlon held his hand out, "It was a pleasure..."

"Thorin Durin." Thorin grabbed the offered hand enthusiastically.

"It was a pleasure, Thorin Durin."

"All mine, Mr. Brando." 

Marlon winked at Thorin and turned and just like that he was gone. Thorin could still feel the warmth of the man's hand on his. He'd just met Marlon Brando! His first thought was that Dís was not going to believe him and then be upset she wasn't there to get an autograph or snap a picture. His second thought was for the poetry-loving friend upstairs. He had to tell Bilbo!

+

"I want to be a writer."

Ray Bradbury blew on the fresh ink he'd just laid down on the title page of Bilbo's book before looking up at the eager young man standing before him, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

"Do you write?"

Bilbo nodded, "Any chance I get. When I'm not reading or doing homework."

"Do you love it more than anything...anything else in the world?"

Bilbo hesitated...he wanted to say yes so badly, but..."Anything?"

Ray laughed. "Within reason, son. Don't blush, I was a young man, once, eager to sow some oats, as they say. But believe me, even _that_ can take a backseat to writing. If you want to sell stories, you have to work at it. And submit, submit, submit...sooner or later someone's going to bite. And always remember to just be yourself."

"I understand, sir." Bilbo nodded, appreciating that someone whose work he admired so deeply was giving him real world advice. It had paid off for Mr. Bradbury, it certainly could work for him as well. A familiar form, off to the side, caught his eye and he turned in time to see Thorin make his way over, from the top of the stairs. The boys shared a look and a smile that did not escape Mr. Bradbury's, well-tuned and observant, writer's eyes.

"Let me give you this," Ray pulled a notebook out of his jacket pocket and ripped a page out. He began to write and then quickly scribbled it out. "Ooops...Just remembered, Maggie and I are moving the kids to a new house in a couple of weeks..." And Ray Bradbury finished writing down his new home address, folded the paper up, and handed it to Bilbo. "Let me know how everything's going. And when you're ready, send me something...I'd love to take a look at your work. Now, I believe you have a rather handsome young man waiting for you."

"Thank you, sir...thank you so much!" Bilbo shook the man's hand one last time and all but floated across the floor to Thorin's side, two personally inscribed books under his arm.

"I can already tell you're seeing nothing but stars." Thorin chuckled at his obviously elated boyfriend.

"He gave me his home address!" Bilbo whispered excitedly. "He wants me to keep in touch...can you believe it? Wow...I really need to get to work...I honestly haven't written as much as I should've since moving here."

"You need to rev it up and fire on all cylinders, huh?" Thorin nudged Bilbo with his elbow, "For you, a piece of cake." 

Bilbo nudged him back, "What've you been up to? Did you go and bother Dís?"

"No," Thorin shook his head, sticking his hand in his jacket pockets, "she was all wrapped up in her own thing...I didn't want to bug her." He was silent a couple of seconds before dropping the bomb, "I met Marlon Brando."

Bilbo stopped in his tracks and grabbed Thorin by the arm. "You what? You met Marlon Brando?"

"Mmmm Hmmm."

Staring for a moment, mouth agape, Bilbo collected his wits before asking, "THE Marlon Brando... _Guys and Dolls_ Marlon Brando?"

" _The Wild One_ Marlon Brando. One and the same."

"How? What happened? What did he say?" Bilbo asked, rapid-fire, while managing to get down the stairs without tripping over his feet.

"Asked me about poetry."

"Poetry?"

Thorin chuckled, "That's what I said." 

"Wasn't all you said, I bet."

"I managed a few other words, but not too many. I did tell him I wasn't the one he should be talking to...told him my friend was the expert."

"Your friend...you meant me?"

"No, Bozo the Clown...of course you."

"You told Marlon Brando about me?" 

"Just that you're into poetry," Thorin looked around, seeing that they were alone in a back aisle, "And that you're a romantic."

"You did?" 

"Yeah, told him you're crazy for Whitman."

Bilbo giggled, "Oh...that kind of romantic."

"Is that the kind I saw last night?"

Bilbo blushed something awful, quickly looking about to make sure they were alone, "Don't bring that up. Please...it's warm enough in here as it is."

Thorin leaned against a bookcase and ran a finger down Bilbo's velvet lapel. "He told me romantics make the best friends and I should hold on to you."

"He did?" Bilbo's heart swelled in his chest. Marlon Brando said that? "Wow...I wish I could shake his hand and thank him in person."

"That's what I did," Thorin ran his fingers across the back of the hand Bilbo was clutching his books with. 

"You shouldn't do that, Thorin. Really...not here." Bilbo said, taking a step back.

Thorin stood up tall, "We can't be afraid of them," he pointed out and away, at the rest of the world. "Bilbo...what are they going to do to us?" He was feeling invincible.

"I don't know...that's just the thing!" Bilbo squeezed his books tighter to his chest, "Thorin...no one can know. Unless you trust them without a shadow of a doubt."

"Who can you tell?"

"I told my mother. And I will tell my grandmother. They both understand and accept what I am...they always have. Who can you tell? Your mom?"

Thorin gave Bilbo a hard smile as he shook his head. Bilbo's heart broke for him. God, this was going to be hard. He took a deep breath.

"I am willing to fight as long and as hard as you are...for us...but we have to be careful. Because, like they say in the movies, the lives of two little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this world. _They_ will reduce us to nothing but ugly slurs and label us "deviants" and "perverts" all because they fear something they don't understand." Bilbo stepped forward and laid his hand on Thorin's chest, over his heart. "I am willing to fight...but I will also fight to protect what we have. And if that means playing it cool in public...Thorin...it's what we've got to do."

"I know," Thorin watched BIlbo's hand slide away, "I know." He looked up at his boy, who stood facing him, proud and defiant, and he smiled. "You are going to be so good for me."

"I hope so. Ha!" Bilbo suddenly chortled, "Here we are, getting heavy again. But, I suppose it's just the nature of the thing."

"No...it's because we're new at this...it's like having training wheels on your first two-wheeler. We'll get the hang of it and then there'll be nothing but sunshine and rainbows. Everyday."

Bilbo rested back against a bookcase and looked up at the beautiful boy smiling down at him, the beautiful boy who loved him, "Where did you come from?"

Thorin felt the heat in Bilbo's adoring gaze and had to look down at his own feet. "Brooklyn, remember?"

"I was thinking it was more like Heaven."

"I think you've been reading too much of that poetry."

"No...just spending time with you."

Before Thorin could suffer first degree burns from the heat pumping through his veins, footsteps on the squeaky floor announced the coming of an unwanted witness. The boys immediately moved out from their secluded back corner and made for the wide, central aisle. Bilbo shifted the books in his arm and pulled his little notebook out of his jacket pocket.

"I still have some things to pick up before we leave, is that o.k.?" He asked, holding his short list up.

"Yeah...sure. I need to grab a couple things myself."

"I'll come looking for you and Dis when I'm done."

"I'll be looking for you." Thorin said. 

Bilbo reached up and picked at an imaginary speck of lint on Thorin's shoulder. "I think you need a carnation for your buttonhole." He said, softly.

"A carnation for.."

"I love you." Bilbo mouthed, looking directly into deep, blue eyes

"I love you, too," Thorin returned.

And with that, Bilbo turned and was lost among the stacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further Reading  
> 
>   * Décharné, Max. Straight From the Fridge, Dad: A Dictionary of Hipster Slang. Harpenden: No Exit Press, 2009. Print
>   * Eaklor, Vicki Lynn. Queer America: A GLBT History of the 20th Century. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2008. Print
>   * Mizruchi, Susan L. Brando's Smile: His Life, Thought, and Work. New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 2014. Print
>   * Weller, Sam. The Bradbury Chronicles: The Life of Ray Bradbury. New York: William Morrow, 2005. Print
> 

> 
> (all of the above books were available at my local public library. LIBRARIES RULE!!!)
> 
> This chapter was an exercise in "Amazing things that can be found if you're persistent"! Being that the kids are in Hollywood and visiting a place that really existed, I needed to know a thing or two about the Pickwick Bookshop that existed on the corner of Hollywood Blvd and North McCadden Place from 1938 until B. Dalton purchase it from its owner, Louis Epstein, in 1970. They eventually closed the store in 1995. The building is still there, just a full city block from the mammoth Hollywood & Highland shopping center which shares the block with the venerable old (formerly Grauman's) Chinese Theater. I came across precious little in the way of articles about the store and only a handful of pictures...and then I found [this](http://youtu.be/7LpPKAhW9-s). If you ever wanted to drive around Hollywood in 1957, this is your chance. I nearly imploded when the car turns left onto Hollywood from Highland and...at 1:25...on the left-hand side of the street, I got my first color, real-life view of Pickwick in the day...looking very much as it would've the day the kids were there! 22 seconds later, also on the left, the large "Musso and Frank Grill" sign is easily spotted. (The restaurant will get its turn in the next chapter). Btw...I know at the beginning of the video, words pop up that say "Hollywood, 1953" but I believe the 1957 in the Youtube title. There are some very 1957 fins driving around...car bodies were still pretty round in 1953 and fins weren't a thing yet. 
> 
> We meet a couple of celebrity guest stars who were regular customers at Pickwick in its heyday. Marlon Brando (1924-2004) was an American actor who many agree was one of the greatest actors of our time. He had an incredible presence, was absolutely gorgeous, and in a 1976 interview, admitted to a number of homosexual experiences. As an actor, one of Brando's pastimes was watching people and I loved the idea of someone was is comfortable with their own bisexuality, seeing something in Thorin and giving him the o.k. to love who he wants. If you're not familiar with his work, I HIGHLY recommend "On the Waterfront", "A Streetcar Named Desire", "Guys and Dolls" (he sings!), and "The Wild One". And, of course, "The Godfather". Check out [this article](http://gayinfluence.blogspot.com/2011/08/marlon-brando.html). The story of him and his friend Wally Cox is very interesting.
> 
>  Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) was, imho, one of the greatest writers EVER! I've always loved his work, and after reading "The Bradbury Chronicles" I have the HUGEST crush on him! As a writer, I appreciated reading about how a young man made it on sheer perseverance and a lot of lucky breaks. He was also a very liberal-minded man and accepted people for who they were. His aunt, who was hugely important in his creative life, was a lesbian and his wife's "bridesmaid" was her gay best friend from UCLA. So, again, I liked the idea that someone who Bilbo admires would want to help out a young writer who will have a unique perspective and voice as a queer man at that time in history. Since I needed to actually watch and listen to Ray speak, I hunted for a video and came across [this gem](http://youtu.be/XESDRP82png). It's called "Story of a Writer" and is a short look at his life circa 1963. The thing about it that sent me into orbit was that, starting at 1:25, they are literally filming inside Pickwick! If you want to see what an amazing bookstore looked like, check it out (and Ray was the cutest darn thing, idek!!!).
> 
>  The story Ray reads is [The Dragon](http://losarciniegas.blogspot.com/2011/10/ray-bradbury-dragon.html) (1955). It was published in "R is For Rocket", the book you can see a stack of in the "Story of a Writer" video.
> 
>  The song Dis is singing in the car is [I Love You So](http://youtu.be/iWrcRZHFOxA) by The Chantels.
> 
>  I based L.A.'s air quality on my memories from visiting my grandparents there when I was a kid in the seventies. While SoCal still has an air pollution problem, it is actually much better now than it was in the seventies. And in the fifties, scientists were just realizing that cars were a huge contributor to that thick blanket of brown smog.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/1aejmY9)
> 
> _"MMMM!" Dís quickly swallowed and washed it down with her second Shirley Temple. "I've been wanting to read this for AGES!" After wiping her own hands off, she opened her bag and carefully pulled out a thick, hardcover book. "It's a three book series...this is the first one." She handed it to Bilbo. He recognized the title at once._
> 
> _"I have been wanting to read this," He said, tapping the cover with his finger. "I take it you've read the book that comes before."_
> 
> _"Yes! Papa used to read to us before bed and that was one of the last ones he read before...you know..." Dís was relieved when Bilbo nodded, understanding. "It's one of my all-time favorites!"_
> 
> _Bilbo looked across the table at Thorin, who was dunking potato chips in ketchup and eating them, one by one. "Is it one of your favorites?" he asked. Thorin shook his head._
> 
> _"No....not really. I didn't like the ending."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go...Chapter Ten! This is kind of an auspicious one for me because it puts _2941 Acorn Lane_ squarely over 50K words. And it's still got a ways to go!
> 
> No new tags for this one...although I just wanted to point out that I do have a character use the word "colored" to refer to an African American. From my readings and such, I've learned that the two words most frequently used in mid-century America, by the media and by African Americans, were "colored" and "negro". After seeing a quote from the incomparable Mr. Sammy Davis, jr. I decided to use "colored". As with everything else, I am most definitely open to conversation regarding this subject.

"I'll have the French Dip."

The waiter nodded, memorizing the girl's choice, and looked, next, to Bilbo. "Sir?"

Bilbo gave the menu one last look-over before deciding on, "The roast lamb sandwich, please."

"Excellent. And for you, sir?"

Thorin started to open his mouth but choked one last time on the ridiculously large number printed next to his selection before finally giving in. "I'll uhhh..I'll have the Pastrami."

"Very good." The waiter gave a quick nod of his head. "I'll have these out to you shortly." Then he collected their menus and was away, leaving the young diners to settle comfortably at their table to await lunch. 

Thorin watched Bilbo unfold and place the heavy linen napkin in his lap with an ease he assumed came from a lifetime of lunches in joints like this. Musso and Frank was the kind of place industry bigwigs and fatcats came to discuss business over martini lunches, not working class kids out for a day without mom, with not much more than allowance money rattling around in their pockets. But Bilbo had insisted.

"It's just a block away." he had argued. The question of where to have lunch had popped up almost as soon as the trio had exited Pickwick, heavy bags of books in their arms. Thorin had initially planned on grabbing some sandwiches at a lunch counter just down the street, but the addition of Bilbo meant there was going to be another idea. Having had spotted the restaurant, famous for being the oldest in Los Angeles, from the car on the way in, he was excited to experience this relic of old Hollywood.

Thorin couldn't help laughing. "We could be standing on top of it, but that doesn't change the fact that lunch would roughly run about a week's worth of pay from the garage."

Bilbo bit his lip and looked back down the street, the large green sign on the roof of the restaurant beckoning to him with no less of a pull than the bookstore's big, red **BOOKS** sign had been. Then he looked at Dís' expectant face. She had been more than enthusiastic when he had made his suggestion. She, too, had wanted to get a glimpse of a glamorous and exclusive world she had only ever read about on the pages of _Life_ and _Screen Stars_ magazine. She had jumped up and down, a free-flowing stream of, "yes yes yes yes!!!" bubbling out of her until Thorin brought her down with a shake of his head and, "Are you kidding? No way." 

"If it's merely a question of cost, I'll cover whatever there is above what you were planning on spending." Bilbo offered, finding it as reasonable a solution as any. "It can't come to that much more."

Thorin looked down at Bilbo, his face alight with a desire to have lunch in an honest-to-goodness Hollywood landmark. He knew he was going to lose this one...how could he say no? His pride was trying...trying real hard to get him to utter the tiny, little word, but his sister was there, her elated bouncing causing her skirt to fluff about in a cloud of pink...

"Ba...Bilbo," Thorin took a step closer so he could speak in a lower tone, "I only have about three dollars, tops."

Bilbo looked up at his boyfriend's consternated face. Oh, how he wished he could kiss him on the tip of his nose! "That's fine. That's plenty. I've got it, Thorin. Please?"

Thorin straightened up, being that close to his boy was too damn dangerous. He sighed loudly. "Fine...FINE! You win!" And he was tackled by a shrieking sister just before managing to catch Bilbo putting his fingers to his own lips and pressing a kiss against them. "Thank you." he mouthed. Thorin nodded, knowing he was whupped, his crooked smile plastered wide on his face.

And there they were, tucked into one of the red upholstered booths, the table spread with a bright white cloth, the silverware the heavy kind that only high-class restaurants used. Dís took a sip of her Shirley Temple while Bilbo stirred sugar into his iced tea. Thorin sat across from them, crunching ice from his glass of water and feeling squarely out-of-place.

"Won't mama just FLIP when she hears where we had lunch?" Dís said as she looked about the dining room, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous.

"Flipping is the least of what mama's gonna do when she finds out." Thorin grumbled as he started to get a look around himself. The place was decked out, fancy, in an old fashioned, gangsters-in-the-back-room, kind of way. He didn't recognize anyone sitting at the other tables, just men and women in expensive suits and Sunday frocks, and turned his attention back to the only VIP in the place, as far as he was concerned. Bilbo had his large bag of books in his lap and was tearing away the tape that sealed it closed. 

"Dís," Bilbo smiled at the girl beside him before reaching into the bag and pulling out a book. "I picked this up for you." He handed the book to her. It was a hardcover copy of _October Country_ by Ray Bradbury. "Look here," he reached over and turned to the title page, "He inscribed it...to you."

Dís read it out loud:

" _DÍS!_

_I hope this keeps the bedside lamp burning all night long!_

_Ray Bradbury_

_NOV. 9, '58_

Dís read the inscription a couple more times to herself while running her finger over the writer's signature. She looked up, her face glowing nearly as bright as the sun. "How did he know about me keeping my lamp on?"

"I told him," Bilbo said, extremely happy with the girl's reaction, "I told him how you like the scary ones best and he said that you are going to love this collection."

"Oh...geez, Bilbo, you are the _best_!" Dís bounced up and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much!"

"Thank you for inviting me along" Bilbo blushed, wondering how many guys out there knew that the way, truly, to a girl's heart was through literature. "I'm just so grateful," he pulled another book out of the bag, "to both of you." He handed this one across the table. "This is for you...my dear new friend."

Thorin took the book. "Bilbo..." He shook his head, "You don't need to keep spending money..."

"Thorin..." Bilbo sighed, softly.

"NO...no no no...I know..." Thorin waited until Bilbo returned his smile before looking at the cover of the book. He read the title out loud. "On the Road."

"From the moment I met you...I've been thinking about it." Bilbo said in way of explaining. "You haven't read it have you?"

"No," Thorin shook his head, "I haven't. Isn't this what all those Frisco beatniks are reading?" He teased, giving Bilbo a wink.

Bilbo laughed as Dís snapped her fingers and murmured "Crazy, daddy-o" without looking up from her own book. "You're right," he took a quick sip of his iced tea, "It is...but that's not why I chose it. It's about getting free of the strictures of life and really living...about young men going west. It's about having adventures where ever the road takes you."

"What about young men who go south?" Thorin asked, softly, as he flipped through the pages. "Do they have adventures?"

"You know, Bilbo" Dís interjected, suddenly, reaching for one of the long, crispy breadsticks that sat in a slim, glass vase on the table, "You could just say it's an early birthday present."

"What birthday..." Bilbo was momentarily confused. He'd been certain that Dís had suddenly put two and two together and was about to announce that she knew something was up between her brother and him. His heart pounded in his ears. "Oh, you mean the book! Why? Is your birthday coming up?" 

"No, silly, Thorin's. The big 1-8. Didn't he tell you?" Dís speared a cold pat of butter with the broken end of her breadstick and crunched on it, noisily.

Bilbo looked across the table at Thorin who had the good sense to blush. "No, he didn't. Thorin...when is your birthday?"

Thorin grabbed a breadstick and mimicked his sister. No pat of butter was safe when there were Durins around. "It's the 25th." He admitted, crumbs flying out of his mouth.

"Of November, I assume." Bilbo watched his boyfriend's dance with embarrassment, enjoying seeing something he'd never witnessed before. 

"Yup," Thorin brushed breadstick crumbs off the table.

"Eighteen...that's an important milestone." Bilbo fiddled with his silverware, "I'll have to think of something special for when the day rolls around." He looked up suddenly when he felt a tap on the toe of his shoe and then a brush against his ankle. Thorin merely smiled at him before taking a sip of water. Bilbo reached for his iced tea, his cheeks burning.

"My birthday is on April 14th." Dís offered up, thoroughly oblivious to the furtive glances being shared and feet touching under the table.

"It is? I'll write that down." Bilbo, grateful for the distraction, quickly pulled his trusty little notebook and pen from out of his pocket and jotted the girl's birthday down. "There...duly noted." 

"Thanks a lot, Bilbo, for this." Thorin closed the book and added it to his own bag of magazines for mama. "I'm going to start it tonight."

Bilbo slid his pen and notebook back in his pocket. "I hope you enjoy it. I'm looking forward to talking to you about it."

Just then their waiter appeared; a large round tray balanced carefully in one hand and a stand for the tray in the other. Lunch had arrived. Cheerfully and efficiently, he passed each their plate, remembering which was whose and asking if the diners would like a round of refills on their drinks. When he left, the kids immediately dug into their meals.

"MmmmmmMMM! Bilbo this is... _gulp_ so GOOD!" Dís managed to get out between mouthfuls of roast beef. Bilbo nodded, humming happily in consent, the roast lamb melting in his mouth. Thorin watched his sister and boyfriend, both of them wrapped up in the apparent bliss of their respective meals. This isn't to say the he wasn't enjoying his own; the pastrami was lean and flavorful and the house made potato chips the sandwich came with were definitely better than the kind that came out of a bag. It was good...perhaps not two bucks worth the good, but still good. And, he had to admit, the look on Bilbo's face at that very moment was absolutely worth the price of admission. He especially appreciated the way the au jus his boyfriend was dunking his lamb in stayed behind as a glistening sheen on his lips and occasionally dribbled down his chin. Yeah...that was definitely worth it.

"Dís," Bilbo wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin, "I've been meaning to ask you which books you picked out."

"MMMM!" Dís quickly swallowed and washed it down with her second Shirley Temple. "I've been wanting to read this for AGES!" After wiping her own hands off, she opened her bag and carefully pulled out a thick, hardcover book. "It's a three book series...this is the first one." She handed it to Bilbo. He recognized the title at once.

"I have been wanting to read this," He said, tapping the cover with his finger. "I take it you've read the book that comes before."

"Yes! Papa used to read to us before bed and that was one of the last ones he read before...you know..." Dís was relieved when Bilbo nodded, understanding. "It's one of my all-time favorites!"

Bilbo looked across the table at Thorin, who was dunking potato chips in ketchup and eating them, one by one. "Is it one of your favorites?" he asked. Thorin shook his head.

"No....not really. I didn't like the ending."

"Interesting. And why is that? I thought it ended well, all things considering."

Thorin shrugged and scrunched up his nose. "It didn't seem fair, you know? To go all that way...after all of those years...and then die in some huge battle. What was the point?"

"You mean the king."

Thorin dropped a chip onto the plate and wiped his hands clean on his napkin. "Yeah. He went through all of that...goblins and elves and sh...stuff...just to die? And his nephews, too? What was the point of that? So some distant cousin gets to be king of the mountain...big deal!"

"But," Bilbo was loving this turn in the conversation, "He reclaimed his ancestral home for his people. And died with honor...that has to count for something?"

"I suppose..." Thorin traced a fingertip around the edge of his water glass. "Still, doesn't make it any less unfair."

"No," Bilbo shook his head, wondering if he could possibly love Thorin more. "I suppose it doesn't. I take it, then, that you identified with the king."

"I guess I did," Thorin chuckled. "Never thought of it that way. Who did you identify with?"

"The dragon." Bilbo deadpanned.

"What...really?" Thorin stopped and watched a tiny smile creep into the corner of Bilbo's mouth.

"No...just kidding. I was actually all for the little fellow who follows the king out into the world." And he watched realization awaken in Thorin's eyes as a glimmer and then move into that crooked smile with parted lips and a nod.

"He was my favorite, too. Him and that weird creature in the cave. I loved the part with the riddles." Dís laid her napkin beside her empty plate and leaned back, full and happy. "Hey, after this, can we walk down to the Chinese? I want to get some pictures before we go home."

Thorin looked at Bilbo who only gave him a look that said the decision was his. "Would you mind checking it out?" he asked. 

"Not at all," Bilbo said, curious to see legendary Hollywood theater. He waved to get the waiter's attention and in just a few minutes they were walking out the door, a ten dollar bill left on the table to cover the tab plus a generous tip. Bilbo had gone ahead and accepted Thorin's three dollars, despite being perfectly willing to cover the entire amount, because he understood it was a matter of pride for his love and he would always respect that. 

After dropping their books off at the car, the well-fed trio made their way down the street until they stood in front of Grauman's Chinese Theater, arguably one of the most famous movie palaces in the world. Dís immediately pulled a small, Kodak camera out of her purse and began snapping pictures of the theater's iconic façade.

Thorin stood beside Bilbo and nudged him softly with his elbow. "Want to try on some famous footprints?" 

Bilbo looked up at the boy next to him, "I'm kind of embarrassed to say I would." 

"Awww...don't be. It goes with the territory. When in Rome, right? Come on...it'll be fun." And off he and Bilbo went, joining Dís who was already running into some of her favorite film stars or, rather, the impressions they had left behind in the cement squares that made up the theater's forecourt. She stepped carefully, her eyes glued to the ground. She squealed out loud when she came across the hand and footprints of Miss Judy Garland, one of her favorites ever since she was little. 

"You o.k., kid?" Thorin shouted from the other side of the courtyard, his foot covering up his early hero John Wayne's unusually small boot print.

"Yes! Oh my gosh, there's Sonja Henie! They even got her ice skates here! This place is the BEST!" 

Bilbo had to admit that this place was special, right about the time he came upon the signature of comedic actress and dancer, Miss Ginger Rogers. Next to her was her dashing and debonair partner, Mr. Fred Astaire. Bilbo and his mom had never failed to miss a showing of one of their films, especially in those dark months right after his dad died. And it was a genuine thrill when he placed his foot inside the impression left by the impossibly handsome Mr. Cary Grant, one of his first boyhood crushes. 

"Bilbo! Thorin! Come here! Come here!" Dís called, very excited over what...or who...she'd found. The boys hurried to her side. She was pointing at the ground. "Look! It's Jane Russell and Marilyn Monroe! Here,'" she shoved her camera into her brother's hands, "Take a picture of me and...Bilbo? Will you be Marilyn?"

Bilbo laughed, "Sure, I'll be Marilyn...but wouldn't you rather be her?"

"No," she shook her head, her raven black ring curls bouncing, "I like Jane better...she was smart and the guys thought she was pretty...even though she was a brunette. Not every gentleman prefers blondes."

"No," Bilbo said, casting a quick glance at his midnight-tressed love, "that is very true."

Getting down on their knees, Bilbo and Dís placed their hands in their respective screen queen's prints and smiled at Thorin, who was trying to frame them just right in the view finder. Dís giggled, waiting for her brother to snap a picture. When the click finally came, they both stood back up. Bilbo linked his arm through Dís' and began to sing, the girl quick to join in.

_We're just two little girls, from Little Rock_

_We lived on the wrong side of the tracks_

_But the gentlemen friends who used to call_

_They never did seem to mind at all_

_They came to the wrong side of the tracks._

Thorin applauded while Dís squealed and threw her arms around her friend. "Wow!" She effused, stepping back to let Bilbo breath again. "You are almost too good at that! Too bad you can't perform it at one of the glee club concerts...you'd be a hit!"

Bilbo laughed, "Thank you! But it's probably for the best. I don't know how good I'd look in red sequins..." And that's when he noticed them; a pinched and prim-looking woman and her crew-cut wearing husband, looking their way. The woman was speaking, frowning, while the man shook his head, his face a study in disgust. Bilbo straightened up, blushing. He pulled his glasses off and began to clean them. He had forgotten, feeling safe in the presence of friends, but was reminded, once again, that there could always be someone watching. Someone who wasn't a friend. Someone who could not understand and would not approve. Thorin saw what was happening and stared back at the couple, his chin lifted in a show of defiance. The couple slunk off, muttering to one another.

"What's their problem?" Dís asked, confused as to how their impromptu performance could possibly bother anyone. They were in Hollywood, after all.

"Not music lovers, I suppose," Bilbo said, sliding his glasses back into place. He smiled for her but was nowhere near feeling it. 

"Who knows?" Thorin mumbled, "Just a couple of uptight cranks. Come on, let's get out of here. It's starting to get late and I gotta get the car back to Balin." 

"Alright," Bilbo agreed although he was sorry that their excursion was ending on such a down note. When they reached the corner of Hollywood Boulevard and Highland, he asked that they stop at the flower stand there. As Dís stuck her face in every bucket of flowers, and Thorin stood back, almost as if he were standing guard, Bilbo picked out two carnation boutonnières; a red one and a white. "Which is your favorite flower?" he asked Dís who immediately pointed at a bucket of lavender roses that looked more like the full skirts of dancing ladies than flowers. "And one of those," Bilbo told the florist. 

Dís was speechless as Bilbo presented the flower to her, wrapped in green tissue paper with a sprig of baby's breath. "Thank you so much," she finally whispered, the flower pressed to her nose. "It's so beautiful."

"You are welcome, Miss Dís. T'is a flower as fair as the lady. And for you, Mr. Durin." Bilbo stepped up to Thorin and pinned the red carnation to his lapel, "I told you you needed a carnation for your buttonhole." He said, softly. 

"You're going to make a gentleman of me," Thorin kidded, trying not to look too long into Bilbo's eyes.

Bilbo chuckled, pinning the white carnation to his own coat, "I don't think so...it would take more than a flower for that to happen, dontcha think?" Thorin caught the wink and impish grin and wondered why he had never before noticed the freckles that dusted his boy's nose and cheeks.

"Shall we?" Bilbo offered his arm to Dís who took it eagerly, her flower gripped tight in her other hand. Thorin stayed a few steps behind his little sister and his boyfriend as they walked down the boulevard together, arm-in-arm, looking, for all the world, for all intents and purposes, like an attractive young couple out for an innocently romantic Sunday afternoon. He couldn't deny it... they looked damn good together. Dís, with her black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and still baby-round, rose-tinted cheeks was a good compliment to Bilbo's dark gold hair, freckles, and bespectacled emerald eyes. And the funniest part, he thought, was that Bilbo was exactly the kind of guy he'd want Dís to date; smart, kind, considerate, honorable. It was only by the oddest twist of fate that it was the tall, handsome brother's heart the boy held in his hands instead of the pretty sister's. 

"We should get a picture of all of us, before we leave." Dís suggested, looking over her shoulder at her brother. "In front of the bookstore."

"Good idea," Thorin said and barely a second after he got the words out Dís was waving at a man walking towards them on the sidewalk.

"Hey, mister! Can you take our picture?"

The man, wearing a three piece and a fedora, was happy to oblige. Taking the camera from Dís, he had them stand in front of Pickwick's wide windows. He even suggested the pose, "Son, you're tall, so why don't you stand in the back, and you two in front. Perfect! Give me big smiles!" 

_CLICK_!

He handed the camera back to Dís. "There you go missy. Say, you kids make a real cute couple."

Dís laughed, "Oh, we're not a couple," she said, shaking her head emphatically, "just friends."

"Oh yeah?" The man patted Bilbo on the shoulder, "Well, good luck to you." He said, punctuating his remark with a wink. After nodding a "good day to you" at Thorin, he continued his journey down the boulevard.

"Whadda ya think of that? That guy thought we're going steady!" Dís whispered loudly as they reached the car. 

"It's understandable." Bilbo's eyes darted to Thorin's face. His boyfriend seemed amused by the whole thing. "People oftentimes see a boy and girl together and assume they're dating"

"But sometimes there's something else going on." Dís said as she slipped into the back seat.

Bilbo wanted to laugh out loud. Yes, indeed, sometimes there was something else going on.

+

The drive back home was quiet. The excitement of the day had taken its toll on Dís as soon as she got settled in the back seat and by the time the Bel Air crossed the Pasadena city limits, she was snoozing in the corner, her head propped up on her hand, her flower settled safetly on her lap. As soon as Bilbo heard a soft snore drift from the back, he scooted closer to Thorin and laid his hand on a very solid and warm leg. Thorin covered it with his own and squeezed it tight. And they remained like that until they pulled up in front of the house on Acorn Lane. Bilbo took his hand back and collected his bag of books. He gave a quick glance back at Dís before looking up into Thorin's face, where he saw a frustration of want that mirrored his own.

"I had a really great time." Bilbo said, wanting to say, and do, so much more to express what he was feeling. But he couldn't...just couldn't risk it.

"Yeah, so did I." Thorin said, a lump rising in his throat. He slid his hand over the seat, meeting Bilbo's fingertips halfway. He flopped it over and immediately it was clutched tightly. And they held on to one another.

"Well...," Bilbo said, wondering if it was possible for a man to starve and whither from a lack of physical contact with the one he loves, "I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah." Thorin caressed the back of Bilbo's hand with his thumb, engraving the texture onto his brain, to have with him always. 

"So long." After one last squeeze, Bilbo reluctantly pulled his hand away and let himself out of the car. Thorin sat there, behind the wheel, and watched him walk to the gate, unlock and open it, step inside...

He was out of the car in a flash, running up to the gate just as Bilbo was shutting it. "Hey," he called, "not so fast." He slipped inside as soon as the gate was yanked back open. "Is there somewhere safe, because I just got..." He was unable to finish what he was trying to say because he was being dragged alongside the Bougenvilla-draped wall. Then a strong hand, clasped around the back of his neck, pulled his head down until his lips came into full, hard contact with Bilbo's. Not even 24 hours had past since their last kiss, but Thorin felt like a man who'd been stranded in the Sahara, with not a drop to drink. Wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, he pulled him up and close. Bilbo, on the tips of his toes, snaked his arms around his boy's neck. Very soon they were opening their mouths to one another and tongues tangled, velvet on velvet, and they both let low whimpers and moans escape amongst the heavy breathing. 

Bilbo had to pull away, needing air in his lungs. "Thank you," he panted. "This was the best weekend of my life."

"I should be thanking you. For everything." Thorin dipped down and kissed wet, swollen lips. "There's no way I could let you go without at a kiss."

"I'm so glad. I've been wanting to kiss you all day." Bilbo beamed up at him. He let his arms slide down Thorin's chest before wrapping them around his waist, pressing his eager body against that pillar of heated stone. He could feel Thorin's own eagerness, hard against his abdomen. He giggled, blushing from his hairline down to his toes, "Looks like someone's making their presence known."

Thorin took a quick look around. The shadows were deep in this part of the front garden, the late afternoon light of autumn fading quickly. The view of the house was obscured from where they stood and Thorin relaxed, rubbing his body against Bilbo's. "I think there's a couple someones here."

Bilbo laughed, "I can't help it...not when I'm touching you." And he let his head drop back as Thorin came down to suck a plump lower lip in between his own.

"I want so much more of you," Thorin growled into Bilbo's ear and any blood that had been left in the boy's brain flowed south and his legs felt weak. If he had been capable of speech, he would've told Thorin that he could have him, all of him, right then and there. Later that evening, Bilbo would recall the rash impetuosity of his thoughts brought on by a burning desire he'd never felt before. And it would scare him.

"Come see me tomorrow, at lunch." Thorin brushed Bilbo's bangs back off his forehead and planted a kiss square in the middle.

"Do you think I should?" Bilbo said, suddenly concerned about how they would handle this new development in their friendship while at school.

Thorin pulled back, a huge grin on his face. "You better, or else I'm going to go find your cute ass." 

Bilbo giggled, "O.k., o.k., but what about your friends?"

"The guys?"

"Yes. Won't they catch on that there's something's up between us?"

"They know you're my friend."

"I know...but..."

"Hey, we just have to play it cool...no different than before. Everything will be fine. Don't worry about them, they're my problem. Not yours. Okay?"

Bilbo nodded, not entirely convinced but willing to give it a try. No different than before? Well, won't that be a trick and a half! He patted Thorin on the chest. "You should probably get going. Get Dís home...and the car back to your cousin."

"Yeah," Thorin let his head drop until his forehead rested on Bilbo's. "I'll ask Balin when I can borrow it again."

"That would be swell. I'm rather fond of that back seat." And Bilbo's mouth was covered by Thorin's and they shared their last few kisses for the day. Then, with Bilbo's hand tucked in his, Thorin led him back to the gate. 

"It was nice to finally see you without your school bag." 

Bilbo swung their joined hands back and forth, "It was nice seeing you in a suit."

Thorin kicked at the ground, "Monkey suit." He murmured through his grin. "See you tomorrow, baby." He placed a kiss on Bilbo's hand before letting it go.

Bilbo leaned against the vine covered wall, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I love you so much, Thorin Durin."

Thorin gazed into Bilbo's green eyes that seemed to glisten, as if they were sprinkled with stardust. "I love you, Bilbo Baggins." he whispered as he cupped the boy's cheek and kissed him quickly before slipping out the gate. Bilbo stood there, just inside and out of sight of the street, his fingers brushing his swollen lips, and waited until the car started up and drove away. Then he locked the gate and retrieved his bag of books from where he had quickly laid them down and made his way back to the house, each step feeling as if he were walking on a path of clouds.

++++++++

**Same day...about and hour and a half later**

_KNOCK! KNOCK!_

Thorin knocked on the door of his cousin Balin's stylishly modern apartment in the Silver Lake area of Los Angeles. 

"Uno momento," he heard from inside, followed by the sweeping strings of what could only be the new Mantovani album. Standing up tall and straight, Thorin tugged on the hem of his leather jacket. A body on the other side of the door fiddled with the lock and it opened wide.

"Hey there, junior, what's the good word?" Balin Fundinson stood there at the door, looking every bit the successful young professional on his day off from work; button-down shirt with an open collar under a buttoned up cardigan, pressed khakis and sporty, two-toned deck shoes. And on top, not a hair out of place with a sprinkle of gray at his temples...lawyering must be hard work...he had only just turned thirty. The only thing missing was a pipe. Thorin wondered if Perry Como knew his wardrobe was being raided. Balin stuck his hand out, and it was immediately engulfed by his younger cousin's over-sized paw. 

"I gotta couple of 'em!" Thorin couldn't help grinning like that cat in the fairytale.

"That's my boy! Hey, stop warming the mat and come in," Balin turned and Thorin followed him into his tastefully appointed bachelor's pad. He was doing well for himself as a young lawyer just finishing up his first year as a member of the Los Angeles County District Attorney's office and its crack team of counsellors and his apartment showed it. Everything was of the latest mode; a lot of straight lines, fashioned from teak, and low to the ground. Balin gestured to the couch; a wide, teal-upholstered sectional. "Why don't you plant your tuches and I'll get you a beer. How's my princess?"

Thorin laughed, "Dís or the car?"

Balin walked back into the living room, two long necked bottles in his hand, "Let's start with Dís."

Thorin took the proffered bottle with a "Thanks" and took a swig. "She's great...had the time of her life. Thanks again for letting us use the car."

"You're very welcome," Balin offered Thorin a cigarette from his sleek, silver-plated cigarette case. "She's in one piece, I assume."

"Sure is...checked her over a couple of times...not a scratch." Thorin stuck the cigarette in his mouth and lit it on the flame Balin had ready. He took a deep drag and immediately the anxiety that had been sitting in his gut like a tightly coiled spring relaxed. Exhaling loudly, he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I gotta tell you something, but it's just between us, huh?'"

"Do I need to start my clock?" Balin teased.

"No," Thorin shook his head. "At least I don't think so." He took another swig from his bottle, looking for liquid courage. "Something happened this week-end."

Balin lit his own cigarette, "A 'YAY' kind of something or the 'UH-OH' kind?"

"The most amazing kind."

Balin leaned forward, "This doesn't mean what I think it does?" He recognized that dreamy look in his cousin's eyes, a first for the kid.

"Balin...man, I'm in love!"

"Well...you can't have her...she's not even paid off yet." Balin reached for his beer bottle, chuckling.

Thorin snorted, "Not the car...although, she's a beaut. You barely need to touch the gas and she's gone! No...this is love, Balin. The real thing." 

"Your mother must be ecstatic. Does she have your china patterns picked out already?" 

Thorin shook his head, "Nah...that won't be happening."

"Why..." Balin leaned forward and tapped his cigarette on the ashtray, "Land yourself a shiksa?"

"Not quite..." 

"Colored girl?" Balin asked, eyebrows raised.

"No...Balin..." Thorin took a drag before blurting, "I'm in love with the sweetest guy who ever lived."

Balin felt like an atom bomb had just been dropped on his head. He had never suspected that his always-serious, not-so-little, cousin Thorin, who'd had a wrench in his hand as soon as he was big enough to lift one, could be...

"Well, isn't this one hell of a surprise." 

"All I did was ask the kid to go the movies with Dís and I last night and then there we were...at the Overlook...and I was kissing him."

"Are you certain this isn't just a case of horny and the first available body?" Balin asked. "The only reason I ask is that a boy's heart can break too and if you're just messing around with this kid..."

Thorin sat straight up. "It's not like that! I swear I would never do anything to hurt him...ever. I'd rip my own heart out before hurting him."

Balin leaned back and gave his cousin a good, long look. "Let me ask you this...how long have you known?"

"Known what?"

"That you're a fagelah...a homosexual."

Thorin shrugged, blushing. He hadn't thought about any of the words that go along with loving another man. "Last night, I suppose. I don't know...maybe it was always there and I was just too scared to look it in the face."

"You are not alone. Many of us are."

Thorin relaxed back against the couch. "I knew you'd understand."

"Of course." Balin patted Thorin on the knee, "Are you still scared?"

Thorin took a drag and stared at nothing for awhile before nodding his head, "Yeah. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

"Why don't you start with telling me something about your young man." And Balin watched Thorin's face light up like nothing he'd ever seen before.

"God damn, Balin, he's just the smartest thing and funny...he reads everything...and he's so fucking cute it hurts." Thorin felt a pain in his chest and it was all due to a lack of Bilbo in his arms.

Balin was sorry he had questioned the nature of Thorin's new attachment. There was no mistaking the joy of a first deep and true love. And he was envious. "What's this magical boy's name and where did he come from?"

"His name's Bilbo and he moved here last summer from San Francisco."

"Bilbo? Cute name. Where did you meet him?"

"School...he's that kid we stopped the Gundabads from clobbering."

"Which would also make him the one who kept your ass from getting kicked out of school for carrying a knife...correct?"

"Yeah, that's him." Thorin cringed, wishing that Dwalin hadn't told his brother every little detail about that nasty encounter. He swallowed hard. "I only ever wanted to be his friend, at least...I think that's what It was. But it was like, I wanted him around, any chance I could. Asking him to help me with my compositions...that was more of an excuse to see him than anything. It just...this sounds weird, but it just felt good to be around him. I was saying things and doing things with him I normally wouldn't around the guys...even Dwalin. For some reason, he made me feel free. Just...really free."

"You had a crush," Balin said, softly, moved by this confession. "And then it all came to a head last night?"

"It did! We were there, at the drive-in and I was nervous, you know? I'd never been nervous around him. Thank god Dís was there...I don't think I would've survived the night without her taking some of the pressure off. And then we had a run in with the beast brothers."

"No kidding...the Gundabads were there? Nothing too serious happened, I take it?"

"Not nothing." Thorin said, getting pissed off by the memory, "That Azog fuck had Bilbo cornered in the men's room. Awww...you should've seen him standing up to that piece of shit!"

"What did you do?" Balin asked, growing more concerned about these confrontations with the juvenile delinquent siblings.

"Dragged him out...told him to fuck off."

"And you saved the day once again. And was your Bilbo looking at you with stars in his eyes."

"What? No...no, it wasn't like that...maybe...anyway, we watched the flicks and I got to thinking..." Thorin went silent.

Balin watched him, lost in his memories of the previous night, in particular the memory of the moment when he knew he wanted Bilbo as more than just a friend to hang out with after school. The moment when he knew he wanted much more. A smile crept across Thorin's face. 

"I remember touching him...on the side of his face...and he was so soft...and his lips were shiny from the butter on his popcorn...I had never before...ever...wanted to kiss someone as badly as I did in that moment. And the way he was looking at me...I knew...I just _knew_ he wanted me to."

"And after ditching the little sister, you drove off to the Overlook and the rest is history."

Thorin laughed, "More or less, I suppose."

"Tell me this," Balin lit a new cigarette with his old one, took a deep drag, and let the smoke out dramatically, "do you want to fuck him?"

The sound of that word caused Thorin's blood to boil and brought about a violent tingling in his groin, "I...I don't even really know how we...how we'd do that."

"Oh, come on. You must have an idea." Balin watched his cousin turn an achingly dark shade of crimson.

"I mean...I guess...I just...it would all depend on him. If he wanted to, sure I'd do it. Although, if it's what I think...oh man, I don't know...it just seems like it would be really fucking painful."

Balin tapped his ash, "It most likely is what you think and, like just about everything, if you do it right, it can feel really fucking good...for both of you. But I wouldn't worry about rushing into anything. Take your time with him and have fun, get to know each other and when the time is right, you'll both know it. Besides, there are some pretty wonderful things that only require mouths and hands. You can start there and keep yourselves entertained for a good long time."

"I wouldn't mind trying some of those." Thorin shifted uncomfortably on the the couch, finding the conversation to be having an embarrassing effect on him. He couldn't believe he was talking about these things with his older and more sophisticated cousin. Balin's preference for men was not a secret amongst their families and Thorin remembers the drama that erupted when Balin came home from his first year away at college with a boyfriend in tow. Papa Fundinson had stomped and shouted the usual litany of "no son of mine yada, yada, yada." but over time he came to realize that his son's happiness was more important than long held ideas regarding love relationships, and before long, Balin's ever changing line of boyfriends was a fixture at family gatherings and high holy days. Thorin had long since gotten used to listening to Dwalin talk about his brother and how he couldn't understand how any guy could prefer another guy's schlong to a nice, round, handful of boob.

"I suggest you two just play around with one another," Balin was enjoying his new found role as a guide to his cousin's new life, "discover what you like best, and then, if you want to branch out...I can probably steer you in some new directions. Just, please promise me...never do it in the car again. Cops love nothing more than busting fairies and dragging them down to the station."

The idea of getting caught kissing another boy by the cops was sobering. He hadn't thought about cops up at the Overlook, just other neckers. God dammit, he'd been stupid!

"You'd probably only be cited with misdemeanor lewd in public, Pasadena isn't Los Angeles, lucky for you, but if they really wanted to be pricks they could throw felony unnatural acts at you. So my advice...keep your hands to yourself until you're somewhere safe. From here on...if you boys need a space to be alone...I'm offering up my place. I just need a couple days advance warning so I can make plans to be elsewhere."

Thorin looked at his cousin, wide eyed, "You'd do that for us?"

"Of course. I can't have my cousin and his new beau feeling each other up in darkened movie theaters and what not...bathrooms...stay out of those unless you're there to do what they're intended for. Are you going to tell your mother?"

For the first time, the realization that he would have to hide Bilbo from mama, at least for the time being, made him sad. He shook his head, "I wish I could."

"That's probably best, at least until you're out on your own. What about Bilbo, is there anyone he can tell?"

"Yes," Thorin nodded, happy to say so, "He told his mom. She wants to meet me already."

"That's refreshing...how bohemian! You did say they're from San Francisco?"

"Yeah, he was born there, but his mom's originally from Pasadena. They're living with his grandmother."

"Hard times?"

"Yeah...mom's sick."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Is it bad?"

Thorin nodded, sadly, "Real bad."

"Oh, that poor kid. Father?"

"Dead."

"That's an unfortunate thing for you two to have in common, but he's looking at being an orphan soon." Balin hadn't even met the kid but already his heart was breaking for him.

"He'll keep living with his grandma until he leaves for college. His family's got money, on both sides, so he'll be taken care of."

"Oh really, any names I've heard of?"

"Just the Bagginses up in the Bay Area and the Tooks down..."

Balin nearly choked on his beer, "Did you just say he's related to the Tooks?"

"Yeah, isn't that crazy? His grandmother is Old Lady Took."

"No kidding!" Balin sat back and took a good look at his grease monkey cousin, dutifully impressed, "You caught yourself a solid-gold darling."

"I never think about that...that he has a lot of money...except when he starts throwing it around."

"Likes to play Mr Moneybags?"

"No...it's not quite like that...although he did insist on having lunch at Musso and Frank today."

"Swanky taste for a youngster." Balin was _really_ impressed. "And did you?"

"I tried to get him to understand it was too rich for kids like Dís and me, but he insisted and you shoulda seen the look on Dis' face! It was like she had died and gone to heaven."

"I can see that!" Balin laughed out loud. "Watch out, that girl is itchin' to be spoiled rotten."

"Too late. After today, she probably thinks Bilbo is the reason the sun rises every morning."

"Gotta crush on her brother's boyfriend, eh?"

"No...are you kidding? Unless he changes his name to Elvis Presley...no. He's just the first guy to go out of his way to be nice to her, that's all."

"You going to tell her?"

"No. Not right now. I still need to get used to the idea that I've got a steady fella."

"So it's official...boyfriend and boyfriend?"

Thorin picked at the label on his bottle, "It is. We're going to exchange pins on Wednesday...it's the only day I don't have work after school. We can get in around and hour and a half alone. As long as mama doesn't come home early and she rarely does."

"I envy you. Not too many boys are able to find their sweetheart in high school. Most have to wait until college...or later."

"Bilbo said last night that he thinks we're the lucky ones."

"He has got that right." Balin held out his beer bottle, "Mazel tov, my dear cousin. Many blessings for you and your young man."

Thorin clinked his bottle against Balin's, "Thank you. We'll take 'em." And he took a long, hard swig, leaving the bottle empty. Setting it down on the table, he glanced out the window, noticing for the first time that he was looking at nighttime Los Angeles, with her inky black skyline bathed in twinkling lights. "Thanks for all of that; the car and the beer and for listening, Balin, I really needed to get that off my chest."

"It was my pleasure and an honor that I'm the first person you told."

"You're the only person I can tell."

"What about Dwalin? I suggest you tell him sooner than later. If you don't, he'll figure it out on his own and you don't want to have to deal with that, o.k.? O.k." Balin stood up with Thorin following and the cousins embraced. "I would like to meet this thrilling young man of yours." Balin said, following Thorin to the front door. "I'll have you both over for dinner, soon...how about in honor of your birthday? I'll invite some friends I think you should meet. You know, it is never too early to start making connections. And men like us need all the friends we can get."

Thorin pulled up the zipper on his leather jacket, the ride home on his bike was going to be a chilly one. "That would be great. I know Bilbo would love it. Kid could use some more friends."

"Good." Balin slapped his cousin on the back, "Have a safe ride home and give your mama and the princess a hug for me."

"I will," Thorin pulled a wool scarf out of his jacket pocket and wrapped it around his neck, before stuffing the ends inside his jacket. "Thanks again."

"Be careful, Thorin. You and your friend."

Thorin waved his farewell and clomped down the stairs in his heavy boots to where his bike was waiting for him.

++++++++

_The Journal of Mr. Bilbo Baggins_  
 _entry for November 9, 1958_

Sitting here. Staring at the page. All I can think to say first is _I don't know where to start_. And despite my efforts to avoid clichés (I know, clichés are clichés for a reason), here I am, starting my record of the most amazing 22 hours of my life, with one of the dullest of the sorry club. But I, in all truth and honesty,

DO NOT KNOW WHERE TO START!!!!!!

Ok, genius why don't you start with the main character in the center of all of this____ Why isn't there a word that will work? If you can hear me scream with unfettered joy...that's the kind of word, the ONLY kind of word that will work for what has erupted in my life. And his name is Thorin. You should know him by now, loyal reader of my journal; the ever so tall, dark, handsome, friendly, steadfast, brave, out of my league, object of my wildest pipe dreams Thorin Durin. Who, either by some strange quirk of fate or, as I am more likely to believe, due to hallucinations brought on by my having fallen into a coma or some such state of unconsciousness, is my guy. My man. My steady. My boyfriend. My love. And I am his. He's said so, on a number of occasions, backing his words up with kisses that couldn't lie if his life depended on it. Listen, dear reader, as I wax rhapsodic about the sublime ecstasy that is mine when we press lips together!

I must be tired.

I am. It has been an eventful day. An emotional day. But, really, how can I sum up a day in which I, the ever so humble Bilbo Baggins, formerly of Bag End, arrived in the movie capital of the world, visited a book shop where I met one of my idols (Mr. Bradbury, I have your address tucked away in a safe place), had lunch in the same restaurant Raymond Chandler used to drink (and, occasionally write) in, pressed my foot into Cary Grant's (BE STILL MY HEART!) and my hands into Marilyn Monroe's (SWOON!)? Don't ask me because I can't. I got a hug and a sweet peck from a pretty girl and I had a handsome boy hold me and kiss me with so much passion it almost knocked me on my posterior. 

I love him. I LOVE HIM!!!!! I LOVE THORIN DURIN!! 

When I got home, with my head in the clouds and my chin rubbed red from someone's very manly whiskers, mom was asleep, but grandma and Eunice were in the kitchen. I wasn't sure about sharing everything with Eunice there, but grandma insisted that I tell her the news about my love life. HA! It feels funny to write that. LOVE LIFE. Who would've ever thought that I would score one of those. And here of all places. O.k., so maybe Pasadena isn't so bad. Anyway, I told grandma everything; the car, the movies, Dís and her friends, the kiss...alright, so maybe I didn't share _everything_. I told her all about Hollywood and she told me she was thrilled that I got to go to Pickwick and meet Bradbury and she was very happy that I helped treat my friends to a delicious lunch (she said we need to go back on a Thursday night and have the Chicken Pot Pie. I think this is a brilliant idea. I love my grandma!). She told me she wants to meet Thorin and I mentioned his birthday is coming up in 15 days. She said we should invite him over for a dinner in honor of the occasion!!!!!! I am so content with my life right now. There is only one thing that would make it better. 

I hope mom is awake in the morning so I can tell her all about today. I think this news will make her very happy.

Before I forget, the books I got are THE PILLAR AND THE CITY by VIDAL, THE KING MUST DIE by RENAULT (going to start that one first), DANDELION WINE by BRADBURY (signed!!!!!), IL BARONE RAMPANTE by CALVINO, and NOTES OF A NATIVE SON by BALDWIN. I bought a copy of ON THE ROAD for Thorin. I was afraid I was being too presumptuous in giving him a book like that. I hope he doesn't think I'm trying to push myself on him. Push the things I like, that is, I don't think he'd complain much about literally pushing myself on him. hahaha! He told me he would start reading it tonight. I hope he enjoys it. My gut instinct says he will, I only hope it's right. 

I just let loose a yawn that nearly cracked my head in two. And my tea is cold. Oh well. Now is the time when all good men brush their teeth, wash their faces, and get into bed. I don't know how quick sleep will come to me tonight. I'm feeling that very definite...URGE. I don't care for that word...it's much to hard sounding. (HAHA! hard) I may need to attend to this peculiar phenomenon before morpheus can bestow his nightly gift. A certain someone has invaded my mind. I can still feel his hands on my body and taste his tongue in my mouth. He is too delicious. 

_Buona notte._  
_BB_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Musso and Frank Grill](http://mussoandfrank.com/%0Ahttp://mussoandfrank.com/) (6667 Hollywood Blvd) has been in operation since 1919, making it oldest restaurant in Los Angeles (and one of about a dozen places I HAVE to visit the next time I'm in L.A.). And has been a destination for celebrities from the early silent movie days when Charlie Chaplin was a frequent guest. It was also a favored watering hole for writers such as F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker, John Steinbeck, and my new fave, Raymond Chandler, creator of iconic flatfoot Philip Marlowe, one of the snarkiest, most charming fictional characters ever committed to print (I would SERIOUSLY have a drink with that guy). Thanks to their current menu (which some say hasn't changed much in the last 80 years or so) being on their website and an on-line inflation convertor, I figured that a lunch for three, that would run close to $100 today, would only come to about $10 in 1958 (and that's with a decent tip. I figure Bilbo comes from a long line of good tippers).And from catching glimpses of restaurant rates from movies and photographs from the time, this seems to be fairly correct. 
> 
> The books Dís bought are indeed the three books that make up The Lord of the Rings, which was published between July 1954 to October 1955. And Papa Durin read The Hobbit to his kids, although his eldest didn't care for the ending.
> 
> [Grauman's Chinese Theater](http://www.tclchinesetheatres.com/%0Ahttp://www.tclchinesetheatres.com/) (6925 Hollywood Blvd) is probably one of the most recognized movies palaces in the world. Opened in 1927, it has hosted countless movie premieres (including Star Wars in 1977). Its forecourt is composed of cement blocks that have the signatures, handprints, and/or footprints of celebrities pressed into them, starting with silent screen star Norma Talmadge in honor of the theater's opening. For me, there are not too many images that exemplify the Hollywood that was than that of Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell, with their hands in wet cement, on June 26, 1953, to promote their movie, "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes". 
> 
> And John Wayne apparently DID have really small feet. Some say that's why he walked the way he did.
> 
> The song Bilbo and Dís sing a verse of in front of the Chinese Theater is [We're Just Two Little Girls From Little Rock](http://youtu.be/b4AfqbA9cwQ) from [Gentlemen Prefer Bondes"](http://youtu.be/ur9GKLl8v4U) (1953). I like to imagine an 11 year old Bilbo, singing along to the soundtrack record and performing this for his mom, making her laugh. 
> 
> I had decided that Balin was going to be a lawyer, pretty much from day one. Working for the L.A. County D.A.'s office, though was something I wasn't sure of until I read the book [Gay L. A.: A History of Sexual Outlaws, Power Politics, And Lipstick Lesbians](http://www.amazon.com/Gay-L-A-Politics-Lipstick/dp/B000WCTS3Q) by Lillian Faderman and Scott Timmons and learned that Thomas Patrick, deputy district attorney for Los Angeles County through the 50s and 60s, was a gay man. He was also known as a person men who were picked up by LAPD "Vice Squads" on "Lewd Vagrancy" charges could go to for help maneuvering through the legal system, at great risk to his own career. Apparently he was a kick-ass lawyer, though, and won some pretty spectacular cases, including one where LAPD officers were brought up on charges for severely beating Latino detainees...which sounds a lot like an incident that happens in the movie "L.A. Confidential"...wow, I need to watch that again. I HIGHLY recommend if you haven't seen it. It is a bit violent (it's based on the novel by James Ellroy who I also HIGHLY recommend if mid-century L.A. crime dramas are your jam) but excellent. And Kevin Spacey is in it. And I LOVE him!
> 
> Of the books Bilbo buys for himself, two of them, The City and the Pillar by Gore Vidal and The King Must Die by Mary Renault deal with queer themes (the latter was on the New York Times Bestseller list in November of '58) while Notes of a Native Son is a collection of essays by queer writer James Baldwin. Bilbo's Italian teacher suggested he read novels in Italian which explains the Calvino.
> 
> Thank you SO MUCH to everyone for their kudos and comments! They really are the sparks that help fuel this obsession of mine.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/PWVO7UA)
> 
> _Thorin looked down at Bilbo, as serious as the boy had ever seen him. "You lied to the principal?"_
> 
> _Bilbo swallowed, and looked up into those beautiful, shocking-blue eyes. "I did," He all but whispered._
> 
> _Shaking his head as if he couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard, Thorin laid a gentle hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Did it hurt?"_
> 
> _It took Bilbo a couple of seconds to understand that Thorin was making fun of him and he reacted as any right-minded, red-blooded, American boy would. He slugged him in the arm. As hard as he could._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going on another trip back to the early days of the boys' acquaintance, this episode takes place the day after Thorin and Bilbo's afternoon at the soda shop.

**Thursday, September 25, 1958**

 

The man with the salt-and-pepper buzz-cut looked up from his desk and straight at the boy who had just walked through the door.

"Mr. Baggins. Thank you for being so prompt. Please take a seat. I apologize for pulling you from you studies, so let's try to get this unpleasant business over with as quickly as possible." 

Bilbo quietly closed the door to Principal Parker's office and walked over to the chair that sat directly in front of the dark, heavy wooden desk. Parker had resumed going over whatever papers he had in front of him and Bilbo took a moment to look around as he settled himself in the chair, his father's old leather satchel on the floor at his feet. The walls were covered with reminders of the principal's life as a younger man. Pennants proclaimed him an alumni of Iowa State (GO CYCLONES!) and frames held photos of football teams wearing the gear of a quarter century earlier. An embroidered, satin banner congratulated the All-American team of 1933. And shining gold trophies sat, well-protected, inside a glass-doored hutch. The sound of papers being tapped on the desktop brought Bilbo's eyes forward. Gilman Parker, principal of Pasadena High School, had his student's attention and he laid the papers down, folding his hands on top of them.

"Before we begin, I want to apologize, on behalf of the school, for the...incident...that occurred the day before yesterday. Everyone involved with Pasadena High, faculty and staff, works diligently to provide a safe and nurturing environment for young minds to grow and thrive in."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate that." Bilbo said, nodding, but never smiling. He really didn't feel like smiling.

"But...in order to insure that safety, we must examine the cracks. Examine them closely. Which is why I've called you into my office today. Yesterday I had the pleasure of speaking with your mother, Mrs. Baggins and your grandmother, Mrs. Took."

"Yes, sir." Bilbo said, although he highly doubted that Principal Parker's conversation with first his mom and then his grandma had been the least bit pleasurable. Belladonna had been greatly upset by the story her son had told her about being cornered by the Gundabads and, while relaying to the principal, over the phone, what had happened to her son, she had become over-wrought and short of breath and her mother had quickly taken over the phone and charge of the situation. Parker had gotten an ear-full concerning the kind of school he was running and "when my children attended school there nothing so shameful as this would have even been conceivable! I demand that something be done!"

"It is my obligation, Mr. Baggins, to find and weed-out the...undesirable...elements that, unfortunately, are becoming more and more a part of our educational landscape these days, what with the...breakdown...in the strong moral fiber that has been the hallmark of this great nation since its inception." Gilman regarded the boy sitting in front of him as he spoke. Bilbo Baggins, a recent transfer from the prestigious Michel Delving School in San Francisco and grandson of Adamanta Took, dowager of one of the wealthiest families in Southern California, had come to PHS accompanied by a generous donation from the old lady. And for that Parker had been extremely grateful. But he also hadn't been surprised when he had heard that the boy had attracted trouble not even a month into the school year. The young man was short and boyishly pretty, what with the loose curls that hung much too long and the layer of baby fat that sill plumped up freckled, peach-skinned cheeks that had been spared the ravages of acne. Bilbo sat before him, quiet and attentive, his hands folded and laying in his lap, knees pressed together. He wore a button-down shirt, tie, and corduroy blazer looking for all the world like a candidate for the ivy-league. Pampered and privileged. "Too soft," Parker thought to himself as he fought to keep from shaking his head. If the boy were his son...

Bilbo took a deep breath, "I understand, sir. I'm ready to co-operate." Except he really wasn't all that ready and his guts twisted up, low in his belly.

"Well, that's just fine, umm...Bilbo., and, I want to assure you that we have spoken to Mr....," Parker picked up a sheet from the top of the pile on his desk and read the name there, "Gundabad and have issued him a temporary suspension until the investigation has been concluded. I am anxious to hear your side of what transpired since it seems to differ considerably from what Mr. Gundabad claims happened, based, of course, on how it was all explained to me by your mother and grandmother. All right?"

Bilbo found himself nodding even though it wasn't all right. None of it. That Bolg, the mindless cretin who, with an older, even more mindless cretin of a brother, had recently threatened him, had been suspended was very welcome news. But it did not eliminate the fact that he now had to tell Mr. Parker about everything that had happened to him. Everything that had been said. "All right," he said, cringing inside when the words came out a timid-sounding croak.

Parker eyed the boy over the tops of his glasses for a couple of seconds. Bilbo fidgeted.

"All right..." Parker began, finally lowering his eyes to his sheet of questions, "let's talk about the time and place. Where were you and what time was it when you first came into contact with Mr. Gundabad?"

Bilbo mustered up all of his intestinal fortitude and, with a strong, clear voice answered, "I had just left my locker, sometime around 3:30."

Parker scribbled down the boy's answer. "And how did Mr. Gundabad approach you?"

"From behind. He and his brother sort of snuck up behind me."

"You didn't realize they were there?" 

"No. I didn't." Bilbo stated, feeling his defensive hackles rising up, "I was tired and thinking about getting home, I suppose."

"So, when did you notice them?" 

"When," Bilbo lifted his hand to the back of his head, remembering, "one of them touched me...right here."

Parker "hmmm"-ed as he continued to write. "And why were you still on campus? Class lets out at three..."

"I didn't want to ride home on a crowded bus. I figured a later one wouldn't be as crowded, so I waited in the library." Bilbo held his temper in check while wondering why this should be important. Spending time in the library after the final bell was not forbidden, nor discouraged.

Parker shook his head as he listened and wrote and Bilbo began to get the feeling that the man was more disappointed with his actions that day than with those of the the bullies who had threatened him, as if he had been asking for trouble. The principal looked up from his writing.

"Tell me what happened after the Gundabad brothers got your attention."

Bilbo held his embarrassment and growing resentment in check as he described the events that had lead to him being backed into an alcove between the banks of lockers, but the principal soon interrupted.

"You say the other boys were calling you names."

"Yes, sir," Bilbo answered, his stomach dropping down into his feet. "Please," he begged silently, "don't make me say..."

"What kinds of names were they calling you?"

"Sir, I..." Bilbo swallowed hard around the dry lump in his throat, "I would rather not repeat anything they said."

"Did they use profanity?"

"No...not exactly. They used...disparaging terms...directed at myself."

"Such as?" Parker's gaze bored directly into Bilbo's eyes and the boy felt as if it were drilling right into his brain. He reaching into his pocket for the cloth he used to clean his glasses with, using that as an excuse to look away.

"Azog called me 'four-eyes'." He said as matter-of-factly as he could.

"Mmmm..." Parker wrote it down. "Anything else? Not exactly what I would call inflammatory. Rude? Yes. But..."

Bilbo knew he wasn't going to get out of this without saying the words out loud, so, after putting his glasses back on, he focused on a space somewhere to the right of Parker's head and, sitting as straight and tall in the chair as he could he said, "I was called a fag. And a fairy. Azog also made an awful insinuation regarding my mother."

It was a very silent couple of seconds before Parker put his pen to paper. From where Bilbo sat, he could see that the man was writing those hateful words down in block capital letters, making them stand out from everything else written on the sheet. His jaw was clenched as tightly as his hands were, but he refused to look down. Or away. He just waited for Parker to speak again.

"I'm curious," Parker took his glasses off and proceeded to clean them, an air of disappointment swirling about him, "was there ever a point when you thought about calling for help...or even running away?"

"I did try to leave, but they wouldn't let me."

"But you never called for help."

Bilbo swallowed, suddenly feeling sick, "I didn't want to make a scene. I just wanted them to leave me alone. I thought I could reason with them." 

Parker set his glasses back on his face and leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, "Did you think you could fight them?"

"No. I never wanted to fight them. I just wanted them to go away."

"Then," Parker's face broke out in a smile Bilbo would've sworn was a smirk, "at just the right moment, it appears, someone came to your rescue."

And for the first time since walking into Principal Parker's office, Bilbo's lips formed something that resembled the faintest smile. He recalled the sound of Thorin's voice as it had come between him and those loathsome beasts, stopping him from getting his ass beat. "Yes, sir," he nodded, slowly, "they did. Just in time."

"Mr. Gundabad has named the other boys as being," Once again Gilman read off the paper, "Dwalin Fundinson, Nori Dorn, Bofur Moller, and Thorin Durin." Bilbo thought he heard a tone of derision in the man's voice.

"Yes sir, that's correct."

Parker looked up with a puzzled expression. "Did you know these boys?"

"No. I'd seen them before, on campus, but I'd never spoken to them."

"What did they do when they came upon you being threatened?"

"Thorin told them to leave."

"Leave you alone?"

"Leave the school."

"Was Thorin the only one of the boys to speak to the Gundabads?"

"No, the other guys backed him up."

"And did you see any weapons drawn?"

"Weapons?"

"Yes, son, weapons. Like a knife..."

"No, sir," Bilbo shook his head adamantly, the image of the shining, silvery knife that had been in Thorin's hand vivid in his brain. "I saw no weapons."

"We have a _no-tolerance_ policy at this school when it comes to weapons, Mr. Baggins."

"I understand that sir. I didn't see any weapons."

Parker watched Bilbo closely, wondering if the boy was lying. "And you'd never met Thorin and the others before that moment."

"No," Bilbo said, hoping his whole "innocent and honest" act was working on Parker, "we're not friends, if that's what you mean?"

Parker smiled grimly and nodded. Then he listened as Bilbo finished with his version of the event; how his rescuers got the Gundabads to back off and leave without any violence and how he was then finally allowed to leave the campus in order to make his way home. 

"You must've been grateful to those boys for helping you out of such a tight pinch."

"I was, sir. Very grateful. I believe my grandmother requested that they receive some kind of commendation by the school."

"Yes, your grandmother did indeed make mention of something along those lines. That is really something for the school board to discuss. I will make a recommendation at the next board meeting..."

And Bilbo listened as Parker continued to spew hot air regarding the situation and was relieved when the man finally stood up and came around his desk, his hand outstretched.

"Thank you for spending this time with me, Mr. Baggins. Your statements are much appreciated. And I hope this incident does nothing to cast your time here at Pasadena in a negative light."

Bilbo took the man's hand and shook it, "Thank you, sir, very much, for taking care of this. I appreciate it." He dropped the hand and picked up his satchel, slinging the strap over his head. "Will you be talking to Thorin and his friends as well?"

"Yes," Parker nodded, surprised by the strength that had been in the boy's handshake. Not the limp wrist he had been expecting. "I will be speaking to each one of them before the end of the week."

Bilbo smiled, one of his bright, genuine smiles. "Good. Well, thank you very much, Mr. Parker. It was nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Baggins."

And Bilbo closed the door behind him.

+

**RING RING _RI-I-I-ING_**!!!!

Standing in the middle of the quad, Bilbo shielded his eyes against the noon-day sun, hoping to catch a glimpse of Thorin amidst the swirling hurricane of humanity. The bell that announced the lunch hour had just rung, triggering a mass stampede of hungry students and Bilbo looked about, trying to spot the now familiar leather jacket, shining black wave of hair, and intimidating whiskers (this last thought made Bilbo giggle just a little bit). With a luck that seemed to come hand-in-hand with matters regarding his new friend, he quickly spotted Thorin and Dwalin, pushing their way out, side-by-side, of the doors to the math and science building. Jumping up and waving his hand while whisper-shouting "Thorin!" merely earned him a couple of peculiar glances from some kids nearby, so he hurried to catch up with the boys who were seemingly on a mission, their long-legged strides helping them cover serious territory. Trotting up behind them, Bilbo reached out a hand.

"Thorin," he said, a bit out of breath, his hand just touching the back of his friend's jacket. Thorin whirled about, ready to correct the punk who felt at liberty to touch his armor, but the sight of Bilbo, looking worried with his hair all fluffed up where it wasn't sticking to a sweaty forehead, made him drop his guard and crack a smile. 

"Hey, Bilbo...what's up?" He asked through his grin, self-consciously sliding his free-hand into the pocket of his dungarees.

Bilbo looked from Thorin to Dwalin, encountered a puzzled scowl there, and looked back. "I need to talk to you...it's pretty important."

Thorin nodded and, giving Dwalin a look only the other understood, he lead Bilbo to a space just around the corner of the building and out of the way of the foot-traffic. "What's going on?" 

Bilbo pulled a handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and dabbed at his forehead, "I just finished speaking with Principal Parker in his office."

"Yeah, what about...oh...probably about what happened with the slob brothers, huh?"

"Yeah," Bilbo moved on to cleaning his glasses, "it was about them."

"Parker told you that they've been taken care of, right?"

"Bolg is suspended until they decide what to do with him."

"Shipping him off to Timbuktu would be a good start." Thorin said, kicking at a rock on the ground.

"Hey, now, what did Timbuktu ever do to deserve that?" 

Thorin chuckled, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. As always."

Bilbo couldn't help the blush that warmed his face, causing a new batch of sweat drops to break out on his forehead. He returned his glasses to his face, hoping they wouldn't instantly fog up. "The thing I need to tell you is...Parker asked me if I had seen any weapons drawn."

Thorin pulled himself up tall, "Did he?"

"He did. I told him I didn't see anything."

Thorin looked down at Bilbo, as serious as the boy had ever seen him. "You lied to the principal?"

Bilbo swallowed, and looked up into those beautiful, shocking-blue eyes. "I did," He all but whispered.

Shaking his head as if he couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard, Thorin laid a gentle hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "Did it hurt?"

It took Bilbo a couple of seconds to understand that Thorin was making fun of him and he reacted as any right-minded, red-blooded, American boy would. He slugged him in the arm. As hard as he could.

"OWWW!" Thorin yelped, his hand instantly flying to the freshly bruised spot on his arm.

"You deserved that," Bilbo spat out, angrily. Although he did take some satisfaction in that fact that Thorin's cry attracted some attention. "Mess with me and this is what you'll get," he imagined himself saying out loud to the curious bystanders.

"No shit! Wow...you got quite the wallop."

Bilbo tugged on the edge of his sweater vest and brushed his sweaty bangs out of his eyes, "Thank you. Coming from you...that means a lot."

Thorin cracked a grin. "Looks like it's my turn to do some apologizing..."

Bilbo couldn't help giggling, remembering his awkward apology just the day before. "Yes, it is."

"...and give you a great big 'thank you'."

"It was nothing." Bilbo's gaze fell to his shoes, "I just didn't want you to get into trouble. I know having a knife on campus would get you expelled, no matter what the reason. I...also told him that I didn't know you...that I _don't_ know you...that we're not, you know, friends."

"Wow, you really told a whopper didn't you? Ah, Bilb, I owe you one." Thorin tapped the toe of Bilbo's penny loafer with his big, black boot.

Bilbo wondered if Thorin had any idea what he was doing to his heart, thumping away like mad in his chest. "No," he shook his head, "I think we're probably even by now, dontcha think?" 

"Next time we go to Miller's the cokes are on me, ok? Or, one of those fru-fru Italian jobs you like so much."

Bilbo looked up through his bangs, a shy smile gracing his lips, "They're not fru...well...maybe a little fru-fru."

"So, are we on for next Wednesday?" Thorin asked, his hand resuming its place in his pants pocket.

"Yeah...sure. I'd like that." Bilbo reached up and straightened the collar of Thorin's jacket that had been curled in on itself, and just as quickly pulled his hand away. 

"Hey Durin!" Dwalin yelled from where he'd been waiting, just out of ear-shot, "Can we get a move on? I'm starving, here!"

"Hold it, will ya?" Thorin hollered back. He looked back to Bilbo, "Thanks again, for, you know, what you did."

"It was all my pleasure," Bilbo bit his lower lip and did his own kicking at the ground, "Uhm...just be sure to let the others know...your friends...ok? Just so you've got your stories straight. Parker said he's going to call you all in."

Thorin snorted, derisively, "Won't that be a kick in the ass?" He gave Bilbo, standing before him, all red cheeked and worried, a good, hard look. "Thanks again. You're a real pal, you know that?"

"THORIN!" Dwalin's bellyaching turned more than a few heads. Including Bilbo's.

"I think you better feed your friend before he starts gnawing on some freshman." he told Thorin who broke out in a belly-deep laugh.

"You're the best," he said, punching Bilbo softly on the shoulder. He started towards Dwalin, "See you round, kiddo."

"Like a donut!" Bilbo called out, suddenly feeling like his body was full of helium and if he took a step he'd float away.

With one last backward wave, Thorin walked off, an animated Dwalin at his side. Bilbo watched until he couldn't see them anymore before making his way to the tables where his cousin Evendím and her friends held court every lunch hour. He really didn't want to go. "I wonder where Thorin was headed?" he thought to himself as he considered what Evie would say if he just didn't show up one day. And he realized, he really didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Principal Gilman Parker, Iowa State alumni (GO CYCLONES!) is purely an invention of mine. The actual principal of Pasadena High School was Mrs. Gladys Edwards. And this knowledge is thanks to a great website, E-YEARBOOK.COM. They archive yearbook scans and I was able to get a look at thumbnails of the yearbook for the [Class of '59](http://www.e-yearbook.com/sp/eybb?school=20396&year=1959) and, finally, the actual principal. 
> 
> I literally left giving Nori and Bofur surnames until the very last. So, after staring at the line of Durin in the LOTR appendices, I googled Jewish surnames and settled on "Dorn" for Nori (German for "thorn") since he is of the line of Durin, albeit removed a bit. For Bofur I chose "Moller" because it is the German name ("miller") closest to Moria. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's reading and leaving comments and kudos and _seriously_ I appreciate it so much. Going into the Holiday season, I hope everyone has a wonderful, not horribly stressful, end of the year!!!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/A0eg0lG)
> 
> _Walking over to the spigot, Jimmy turned the handle until the water stopped pouring out of the hose. "So, you're telling me that the most bitchin' guy on campus...your new best friend..."_
> 
> _"He's not my best..."_
> 
> _"Your new pal, then. You tellin' me he don't strut around with a doll permanently attached to his hip?"_
> 
> _This new realization lit a tiny flame of hope in Bilbo's chest. "I suppose I am."_
> 
> _"And he never boasted about all the chicks he's scored with?"_
> 
> _"No...never. We talked about home and mom...our dads...his friends...but never any girls...other than his kid sister."_
> 
>   _"Kinda makes you wonder why, don't it?" ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya, everybody, I'm back! I hope the holidays treated you right. 2016 has been off to a rough start and I hope everyone is doing ok. 
> 
> No new tags on this chapter, although there is one thing I want to touch on. We get to meet Bifur, as owner of the garage Thorin works at and, seeing him through Bilbo's eyes, he is described as having "ethnic" features. This was a common way of describing someone who didn't look 100% white. I've heard this said about my grandmother, who had olive skin and an aquiline nose. BTW...if you google "aquiline nose" the images are chock full of pictures of Richard Armitage and Daniel Radcliffe. And that's kind of fun!

Saturday, September 27, 1958

"Ee ak me oo ang ow ah miwwer uhgen."

Jimmy laughed as the garden hose in his hand noisily filled up a large, tin bucket. "Sorry, buddy, but I don't speak Martian."

Sitting on the low wall that lined the driveway of his grandmother's house, Bilbo, in his weekend get-up of blue jeans and a t-shirt, kicked his be-sneakered feet back and forth as he finished chewing his mouthful of apple. "Sorry...what I said was 'he asked me to hang out at Miller's again'."

"Well, well, well, buddy boy! Sounds like you got a date!"

Bilbo had just taken another bite from his apple and Jimmy's words almost made it his last. "No, no, no...not...NO!" He coughed and sputtered, shaking his head emphatically. "It's not a date- date...you know, like a...a _date_!"

"No?"

"No! Because Thorin Durin is most definitely not..." Bilbo didn't finish the sentence. It would've sounded too ridiculous in his own ears.

"Is that so?" Jimmy Storm needed convincing. "Does he got a squeeze?" 

Bilbo stopped and thought about the question. He wanted to blurt, _OF COURSE HE DOES!_. Because, well, he did...did't he? He was the coolest guy at school, so naturally he'd have a Betty to neck with on Saturday nights. The only problem was, Thorin had never once mentioned having a girlfriend. And Bilbo had never seen him with a girl at school. Sure, there were girls who hung around the bleachers, up by the football field where Thorin and his gang could be found during the lunch break, but Bilbo had never seen one hanging on Thorin's arm like most spoken-for girls do with their fellas. "You know, Jim..." He finally had to admit, "I don't know."

Walking over to the spigot, Jimmy turned the handle until the water stopped pouring out of the hose. "So, you're telling me that the most bitchin' guy on campus...your new best friend..."

"He's not my best..."

"Your new pal, then. You tellin' me he don't strut around with a doll permanently attached to his hip?"

This new realization lit a tiny flame of hope in Bilbo's chest. "I suppose I am."

"And he never boasted about all the chicks he's scored with?"

"No...never. We talked about home and mom...our dads...his friends...but never any girls...other than his kid sister."

"Kinda makes you wonder why, don't it?"

Bilbo sat there, under the clear blue Southern California sky, and stared at the rubber-capped toes of his white Keds as they swung above the ground. "All right, now you do have me wondering." A wry smile appeared and he shook his head, "No...There's got to be a good reason. Perhaps I've just missed her...or she was sick this week. She could go to a different school. Or...maybe he's just too busy with school and work and doesn't have time to squire a girl around."

Jimmy shrugged, "Yeah, sure, that could be."

"I mean...you should see him, Jim!" Bilbo couldn't help sighing. "He's tall and so handsome in a kind of...geez, this is going to sound dopey...but...a kind of _dangerous_ way, you know? Dark and intimidating. But he's funny and really nice...he treats me like a true friend. More than Evie and her gang ever have, that's for sure."

Jimmy made a face at the sound of his boss' granddaughter's name. Spoiled little twat wasn't one of his favorite people by a long shot. It made Bilbo giggle and they shared a _look_. 

"Well, sounds to me like this Thorin kid thinks you're number one with a bullet."

Bilbo blushed as he stared back down at his feet. "I don't know about _that_. I'm just not like any of his other friends. Those guys can take care of themselves when they have to. I'm more like...I don't know...some stray dog or a scared cat that gets stuck in a tree and needs rescuing. Oh, what does it matter?" The boy slumped where he sat, "There's just no way Thorin is _that_ way."

Jimmy laughed, "You mean this way?" He wagged his finger back and forth between himself and Bilbo.

Bilbo blushed and took another bite out of his apple. That was exactly what he had meant. If he had grabbed his Funk and Wagnalls, right then, and looked up the word _masculine_ or _manly_ , there would've been one of those black line illustrations of Thorin in the margin; the whiskers...the tall, muscular physique...the shiny wave of hair with that one curl that always fell down on his forehead...a look of fearlessness in the eyes. What the picture wouldn't show was how blue those eyes were. And that was downright criminal.

No...there was just no way.

Jimmy dropped a sea sponge into the bucket, where it splashed into a mountain of soap bubbles. Bilbo had gravitated to the driver/fix-it man/all-around gofer from almost the minute he and his mom had moved into Acorn Lane. Now, it wouldn't be a Saturday without Bilbo in Jimmy's shadow, watching him do everything from fixing leaky faucets to what he was currently engaged in - washing Granny's '33 Packard. It had been a gift from her late husband, all those years ago, and she wanted it cared for as if it were a prize thoroughbred. Picking up the water-logged sponge, Jimmy set it down gently on the car's hood.

"Answer this one for me, Einstein." he said as he rubbed the sponge across the surface of the hood in small, gentle circles, "if you didn't know me...and you saw me walking down the street...what would ya think?"

Bilbo's mouth opened but he quickly snapped it shut. He had wanted to say that he would've thought Jimmy, what with his high cheekbones, dark almond eyes, and rich brown Cherokee skin, to be one of the most enticing men he'd ever laid eyes on, but, thinking it better to keep all of that to himself, Bilbo kept his mouth shut while trying to think with his larger brain. 

Silence made Jimmy look up in time to see Bilbo look away, cheeks as bright red as the apple he was eating. He was aware the kid had something like a little crush on him. It was kind of cute and perfectly harmless. He remembered all the swell dudes he'd been hot for as a kid, growing up in Oklahoma. He was just glad he had gotten too old to fall for pretty, little, blushing boys. He chuckled.

"I'm flattered. But what else?"

Bilbo swallowed down his embarrassment along with the apple. "Well, what I would think is that you've probably made some lucky girl really happy and she's sitting at home, wearing your ring and bouncing your baby on her knee, waiting for you to come home. That's what I would think."

"See. That was what I was getting at. You never can tell about a person. You'd probably never guess I was hustling in Pershing Square when I was your age. There might be a thing or two about your dreamboat that you don't know. You could get lucky, bud."

Bilbo tossed his gnawed-on apple core into a trash bin. "I think it would take more than luck. More like a miracle."

Jimmy knew it was probably a long shot, the kid's hero-turned-heart-throb being a queer, but, as he had learned in his 32 years on the planet, there wasn't a single man you could count out at first sight. "Then a miracle is what you need! Now, you gonna help, or are you just gonna sit around and watch the help?"

Bilbo laughed. "Oh sure," he said, grinning big, and, jumping down from the wall, he grabbed a sponge from the box of washing supplies and joined Jimmy in making the big, white car sparkling clean.

+

  
_Ooh wee, this feeling's killing me_  
_Aw shucks, well, I wouldn't_  
_Stop for a million bucks_  
_I love you so, just hold_  
_Me tight and don't let go_  


Bouncing his head in time with Roy Hamilton's syncopation, Bilbo crouched down on the ground to make sure he hadn't missed a spot along the Packard's running board. Washing the car had proved to be a kick and it had reminded him of back when he was little and dad would let him help wash the DeSoto. And by help, that usually meant getting soaked through to the skin before being hauled back inside by mom and immediately plunked into a hot bath. Mom would scold Daddy about the fog rolling in and "he's going to catch his death one of these days."

("Don't worry, sweetheart, he's our tough little man! Aren't ya tiger?"  
Bilbo looked up from the fleet of plastic tugs sharing the tub with him, making as fierce a face as he could manage at the tender age of five, and growled at his parents.  
"See Bell? We've got nothing to worry about."  
"Bungo, I'm worried he's going to catch a _cold_. What is it you're afraid of?)

He had been lost in these memories when, all of a sudden, a solid stream of water came flying over the car and hit him square on the top of his head. There was no way he could've helped the shriek of cold surprise that came flying out of his mouth.

"Oh, geez, buddy, did I get you over there?" Jimmy asked, effectively holding his mirth in until Bilbo stood up and he got an eye-full of very wet, very perturbed teenager. After that he let the laughter roll which earned him a wet sponge, expertly thrown, to the face. Then it was Bilbo's turn to laugh.

"Bilbo Baggins, you are _formidable_!" Jimmy walked around the car and shook the soggy kid's hand.

"Never underestimate a Baggins!" Bilbo bragged, happy to have earned the other man's respect. "Did I tell you I slugged Thorin the other day?"

Jimmy chuckled and handed Bilbo a rag to dry his glasses off with, "A couple of times, bud. Now, go put some dry clothes on, we're going to head out soon."

"Oh yeah? Where to?"

"Just going to bop the car into town for a look over. Your Gram's orders. Thought we could grab lunch while we're waiting."

Bilbo slid his glasses on, happy again that the world was no longer dew-dropped and back in focus. "All right! I won't be but a sec!"

Jimmy watched Bilbo skip-trot up the driveway and into the garage. He wished he could've told him to put on something nice. Chances were he'd look cute as the proverbial button anyway. And a surprise is always better when it's exactly that.

++++++++

"So...ummm...I was wondering...you know...if you want to...would you...ummm...go to...ummm....homecomingwithme?"

Thorin slid himself out from underneath the Olds. "No way! Come on, man, that was terrible! Do it again!"

Dwalin, who had squatted down on the floor of the garage so Thorin could hear him from under the car, buried his face in his hands. "I don't think I can do this."

Thorin just laid there, looking up at his distraught cousin. "I'm not understanding your difficulty, brother."

"You of all people should get it! If you didn't make the grade with her, then how am I..."

Thorin sat up on the roller and laid his hand on Dwalin's shoulder in a show of commiseration. "Like I told you. I just wasn't up to her speed. But you," He stuck his finger in his best friend's face, "You're different. Now come on. Give it to me again. And don't sound like you're about to be sick." He rolled himself back under the car.

It took Dwalin a couple of tries but finally, after being told to do it as if he were just asking his girl out to the raceway or for cokes at Bob's, he nailed it:

"Hey sugar'n'spice, how 'bout you and me hit homecoming? You know, for kicks and tricks."

Thorin applauded. "Now you've got it! That was _on_! She won't say no to that."

"What, you think so?" Dwalin's face radiated hope and Thorin wished he'd had his sister's Kodak on him, he'd have taken a picture of that precious mug for posterity. 

"Yeah. I do." Deep down Thorin was nearly certain Sherilyn would fall for Dwalin's line. She really was a good kid and game for just about anything that spelled out _f-u-n_. Thorin and she had dated for a very short, awkward couple of weeks during the summer, but they had parted as friends, chocking the whole thing up to 'it was never meant to be' with no hurt feelings. Thorin had only been too glad that she had moved on to Dwalin. The guy was positively _goofy_ for the girl.

The service bell dinged as another customer came rolling up in front of the garage. Dwalin stood to see if he was needed out front. What he saw made him grab Thorin by the sleeve of his coveralls, yanking him to his feet.

"Will ya get a load of that scooter?"

What had pulled up was a long, white relic from the thirties. Thorin could tell it was a Packard by the silver swan hood ornament. A pricey little number back in the day, they were rare critters and you just didn't get the chance to see one up close very often, and this one was a stunner. The cousins walked out of the garage into the sunshine to get a closer look.

"They just don't make 'em like that anymore." Dwalin uttered in a voice hushed by awe, but he got no response. Thorin had been looking at the car, but then something...someone...was there, standing in front of it, blocking his view. It was a familiar someone, and they were waving at him and smiling a smile as bright as 10 atomic bombs. It was Bilbo. At the realization that his new pal was walking towards him, Thorin felt as if a 100 watt bulb had been turned on somewhere inside himself. He never noticed Dwalin rolling his eyes before stalking off to scrutinize the grand prize of all rides.

"Thorin!" Bilbo picked up the pace when he saw Thorin wave back. "I am so glad you're here!"

"Hey kiddo! What brings you out into the wild?" Thorin yanked the red bandanna out of his back pocket and wiped his hands off before offering one of them to Bilbo. That warm, little hand. In his again. What was it about this kid's hand? It just felt...nice.

"I'm just here with Jimmy." Bilbo gave Thorin a good, solid handshake while taking a quick look around at the garage, excited to see the place where his friend

(crush)

worked, But the neat row of gas pumps being worked by jockeys in tidy white shirts, black trousers, and matching bow ties, and the garage full of cars in various stages of repair paled, compared to the boy standing in front of him. Thorin looked sharp in his dark blue work coveralls, the band of a white t-shirt visible at his throat. It wasn't quite as grease-stained as the one he was wearing, the other day at school. And he even had his name on it, a royal blue oval patch with _Durin_ embroidered in white. Bilbo couldn't resist reaching out and running his finger over the neatly stitched letters, so he punctuated this with a playful punch to Thorin's shoulder. "Grandma's car is due for an oil change or something," He continued in way of an explanation, "I'm not really sure. Cars aren't exactly my thing, but you know that." 

Thorin chuckled, as he reached up and, briefly, laid his hand over the spot that still felt Bilbo's fist. "Yeah, I sure do. So, that's your grandma's car?" He jerked his chin at the Packard as he shoved both of his hands into his pockets. 

"Yes! Isn't it amazing? It's like brand-new inside, you've got to check it out! It's even got a rumble seat!" 

Thorin ate up Bilbo's excitement like it was made of m &m's. "A rumble seat? No kidding!" 

"Yeah! And I helped Jimmy wash it before bringing it here..." Bilbo bubbled over, bouncing on his toes, but Thorin cut him off. 

"Who's Jimmy?" Thorin had spotted the tall, dark-skinned man standing beside the car, talking to Bifur. "Is he your friend?" 

"Oh, no...wait...sorry...yes," Bilbo quickly corrected himself. "He _is_ my friend, actually. He works for grammy..." 

"Grammy." Thorin repeated the word inside a whisper and through a smile. 

Bilbo's heart hammered and his cheeks blazed red hot. Of all the times to let his childhood name for his grandmother slip! "Grandma...I meant. He's her driver." 

"Oh. That's cool." For some reason, this information made Thorin feel better about this Jimmy guy. If Bilbo's _Grammy_ trusted him with her grandson, then he must be all right. 

"Say, did you get to talk to Parker yesterday?" Bilbo asked, dying to know what the principle had had to say to Thorin and his friends. 

Thorin snorted in derision and kicked at the ground. "If _talk_ is what you want to call it." 

"Why?" Bilbo felt a chill enter his bloodstream. "What happened? What did he say to you?" 

Thorin looked off into the distance, "He told me that he doesn't buy the whole 'just happened to be passing by' story...thinks we had a rumble planned." He then leveled his gaze at Bilbo, who, he had noticed, wasn't wearing his regular glasses. These new ones had tinted lenses and he couldn't make out the kid's eyes. "The genius thinks you lied because we threatened you to keep your mouth shut." 

"What?" Was the only word Bilbo's bewildered mind could get out of his mouth. 

"Yeah. Rich, ain't it?" 

"But...Thorin...I told him EXACTLY what happened!" Bilbo shouted as quietly as he could. "It's true I fibbed about not seeing the...the _thing_...but that was my decision! Everything else was gospel truth, I swear!" The entire situation was just so grossly unfair! Bilbo was mortified that their principal thought of him as nothing more than an easily cowed whimp and furious that he had treated Thorin like he was a no-good, bullying thug. That was miles from the truth. 

"I know, kiddo, I know. You did good." Thorin clenched his hands in his pockets, wishing he could give Bilbo a big hug. Just to calm him down...the poor guy was so upset. 

"That son of a..." Bilbo bit his lip. He may have been royally pissed off, but he had been raised to believe that a gentleman never swears in public. "I'm guessing it's safe to assume that he chose not to mention that my grandmother wants you all to receive commendations." 

"She does?" Between Bilbo's adorable attempt at profanity and the old lady wanting to hand out medals to a bunch of grease monkeys, Thorin no longer felt too angry about the situation. The corner of his mouth crept back up. "Aww, that's real sweet of the ol' girl, but she doesn't need to do anything. I'm just glad we were there to help you. Tell her thanks, will ya?" 

"Oh....Heck!" Bilbo could no longer contain himself and let rip one glorious, almost-an-expletive, his fists planted on his hips. Thorin, no longer able to help himself, laughed out loud. 

"What's so funny?" Bilbo asked, the anger melting away with the jolly sound rolling out of his friend's mouth. Thorin apologized. 

"It's just...you're just so..." 

('Just so _what_ , exactly? Huh, Durin?' Thorin asked himself and found there was no clear answer, merely a faint, silent form, sitting still on the very edge of his mind, as if it were hiding from him.) 

"Yes?" Bilbo waited, wishing he was better at reading the expressions on people's faces. If he hadn't known better he'd almost think Thorin....no, no, no, _that_ was as unlikely as snowfall on that warm September day. It just couldn't be. 

Thorin was still struggling. "You're...you know...you're just... _you_. Hey," He needed to flip the record before broadcasting more stupid. "What's going on with your eyeballs?" 

"These are my sunglasses." Bilbo pulled them off his face and finally Thorin could see what he'd been missing...green eyes with gold flecks. The noon day sun was suddenly feeling hot on his face. 

"Sunglasses, huh?" Looking at Bilbo, standing there in his pale yellow, short sleeved shirt - top button undone - tucked into pale blue flannel trousers, ever present penny loafers, and modish sunglasses, Thorin thought he looked like he was ready for an afternoon at the country club...just like his cousin Evendím and her crowd always did, everyday at school. "Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Thorin reminded himself. After all, the kid was a Took, on his mother's side. And here _he_ was - automobile grease streaked across his coveralls and embedded deep under his nails - feeling like a first class schlump. 

"They're prescription, but I never wear them to school." Bilbo babbled, wondering why he felt Thorin needed to know that. He set the glasses back down over his eyes. 

"You know what?" Thorin lowered his voice. 

"What's that?" Bilbo looked up into Thorin's kind and handsome face as that rich, deep tone stoked the little fire burning low in his belly. 

"They look really good on you." Thorin admitted. Bilbo grinned from ear-to-ear. 

"You think so?" The fire began to grow, tingling in his limbs...and elsewhere. 

"Of course," Thorin's booted toe bumped Bilbo's loafered one. "I wouldn't fib about something like that." 

"I know you wouldn't." Bilbo thanked providence that Thorin couldn't see the adoration that had to be oozing from his eyes. Now, if only his shades could hide the blush that burned his cheeks and the tips of his ears. "I'm just so surprised that you said that." Bilbo had to hold his own hand to keep from reaching out to touch... 

"Why?" 

"Because...you're so cool..." 

"Right!" Thorin cut Bilbo off sharply, "I'm so cool that Parker told me to shave and get a haircut. That it would be 'the first step to becoming a benefit to society instead of a burden.'" 

The blood drained from Bilbo's face. "No! Don't you dare!" 

"What? You think I'm going to shave everyday for that old goat?" Thorin made a show of stroking his whiskered jaw, "This ain't going' anywhere." He dotted that sentence with a wink. 

"Durin! Quit yappin' and haul it over here! Got someone you need to talk to!" 

"Is that your boss?" Bilbo had spotted the man earlier, talking to Jimmy. He was much older, with runaway salt and pepper hair, thick, bushy eyebrows, and a very prominent, ethnic nose. The man had his arms crossed across his chest, a somewhat cross expression planted on his face. 

"Yeah," Thorin waved at Bifur, acknowledging his employer. "Still on the clock, I better go see what he wants." 

"Sure. Uhhh...Thorin, it was good to see you." 

Thorin reached out and squeezed the kid's shoulder, "Yeah, kiddo, you too." 

"Durin!" Bifur was getting impatient. 

After a hurried "See ya!", Thorin jogged away towards Bifur, Jimmy, and the car. After all, the car was the reason they were there and the car was soon to become Thorin's responsibility. It had all been the old lady's idea. Ada had wanted Jimmy to give the young man her grandson had set his cap for the once over, so, he had set up an appointment for the Packard to get an oil change at Bifur's Garage, and he had requested Thorin, specifically, for the job. After a man-to-man about what he wanted done to the car, as well as having observed the kid talking to Bilbo, Jimmy was glad that he would be able to report to both Miss Ada and Miss Bella that they had nothing to worry about. His first impression of Thorin Durin was that he was genuine and above board. And as he and Bilbo walked down to the cafe on the corner to grab some lunch, Jimmy would've sworn his little buddy's feet never once touched the ground. 

++++++++

**Same day...Closing Time**

  
_Well, me and the Devil at a night stop light_  
_He started rollin', I was out of sight, I said_  
_Move hot-rod, move man_  
_Move hot-rod, move man_  
_Move hot-rod, move me on down the line, oh yeah_  


"HOO, BROTHER! Am I ready to get out of here!" Dwalin hollered above a devil-racin' Gene Vincent, blaring through the radio in the office.

"Almost there." Thorin turned the key in the lock on the large metal tool cabinet, locking it up good and tight. 

"You sure made out like a bandit." Dwalin opened his locker and blew a kiss to the picture of Sherilyn he had taped to the inside of the door.

Thorin walked into the office and hung the key on its hidden hook. "What are you talkin' about?"

"That Packard!" Dwalin yanked on the zipper of his coveralls. "Old lady Took's buggy! That thing was choice!"

"It sure was! Grade A, all the way." Thorin joined Dwalin in the room where the employee lockers stood in a row. "Awful nice of her to do that."

Dwalin rolled his coveralls up in a tight ball. He needed to get them home and washed before his shift on Monday. "Well, we did keep her grandson from getting his ass kicked. Man, we gotta go around saving rich sisses more often!" He was surprised by a hard slug to the arm.

"Don't call him that!" Thorin growled under his breath. The intensity of his anger surprised them both.

"What the hay?" Dwalin rubbed at his arm, puzzled by Thorin's reaction. He'd seen Thorin in a bad mood, and he'd seen him ass-deep in a brawl, but _this_ wasn't like him.

"Bilbo's not a siss...he's got a name, all right?" Thorin took a deep breath to combat the fight that had raged up like a beast inside of him. Fighting Dwalin was the last damn thing he wanted to do. "Hey...man...shit, I'm sorry about that." He held his hand out and Dwalin gripped it.

"Yeah...But come on, you gotta tell me...what's the big deal with him?"

Thorin undid the buttons on his coveralls, "What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know." Dwalin let the words come out slowly as he proceeded with caution. "It's just...you two just seem to be real friendly."

Thorin sat down on the bench there, in front of the lockers, and tugged his boots off. He chuckled, "Am I that big a creep that it's weird if some new kid wants to be my friend?"

Dwalin slammed his locker closed. "I never said...Hey, come on! Where'd ya get that from?"

Thorin slumped on the bench, his coveralls pooled around his hips. He looked up at Dwalin. "Then, what the fuck is it, huh? I mean, what's so wrong here?"

"Hey! There's no need to get sore! All I'm saying is, you know, that one day you're keeping this kid from getting beat and the next he's showing up with a cherry car, all for you to play with, and looking up at you like you're g-dash-d himself! That's all." 

Thorin stood up and stepped out of his coveralls, folding them for the ride home in the saddle bag on his bike. "Come on...he doesn't do that. You know what your problem is?"

"No! Enlighten me, please!" Dwalin folded his arms and watched a shit-eating grin work its way across Thorin's face.

"You're just jealous." Thorin had to duck to avoid a chucked pair of coveralls.

"No...you're right Durin! Why oh why did I not figure that out sooner?" Dwalin stalked off to grab his coveralls. "I always wanted a pet."

Thorin grabbed his leather jacket out of his locker and slammed the door. "Go clam up, will ya? Don't you have a date or something?"

Dwalin looked up at the shop clock. "Awww, shit! Yeah, I'm going to be late! Going to see you at Bob's, right?"

"You want me there?" Thorin asked, sliding into his road armor.

"Why wouldn't I want you there?" Dwalin walked up to Thorin and wrapped an arm around his best friend's shoulders. "I'm cool with it if you are, seeing me and Sherilyn together."

"When have I not been cool with it? I thought we covered that already."

"Yeah, we did." Dwalin squeezed and let Thorin go. "Sorry, man...I just have a hard time thinking she would choose me over..."

"Don't think about it, then." Thorin's finger was in Dwalin's face. "Just don't screw up the big question!"

Dwalin grabbed a hold of Thorin's finger. "Will you come and hold my hand while I do it?"

Thorin pulled his finger away and and slapped at a cringing cousin, "Go! Get! And Dwalin?"

"Yeah?"

"Good luck, man."

And Thorin watched Dwalin race away, down the lamp-lit streets of Pasadena.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:  
> [ ** _Don't Let Go_**](https://youtu.be/mbyVt_SQZBU)  
>  written by Jesse Stone, 1958
> 
> [ ** _Race With the Devil_**](https://youtu.be/NKd8GiE8dbw)  
>  written by Gene Vincent and Sheriff Davis, 1956
> 
> Grandma Took's car is a 1933 Packard 1004 Super Eight. This was a very pricey car back in the day and, considering the country was deep into the Great Depression, very few of these cars were made and sold, making them rare, even in the fifties. At first I was going to have her owning an Auburn, but then I got a look at this beauty and I just knew Grandma had to have it.  
> [](http://s1081.photobucket.com/user/fangirly_squeal/media/IMG_0132_zpsdas5bjkq.jpg.html)  
> (and it does have a rumble seat!)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/Lc0x7fb)
> 
> _"You gonna up, up, and away, Superman?"_
> 
> _Bilbo fell back to earth, which was fine, because Thorin was right there, behind him, taking a drag off a cigarette. And, for the first time, he was half-tempted to ask him for one. He chuckled._
> 
> _"Not today, but one day, I sure will."_
> 
> _Thorin felt a light inside himself dim. "And where are you gonna fly off to?"_
> 
> _"Oh..." Bilbo wrapped his arm around a street lamp and swung around it. "I'm just gonna go home...start college. Become a part of this great big world."_
> 
> _"You...uh..." Thorin kicked at a rock, "planning on doing that all by yourself?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13...and it's a long one (and hopefully a good one)! This one takes place the Monday after that wonderful week-end, and our boys are back in school. I don't think it requires any tags that aren't already up. A heads up...I introduce a new character who is most definitely racist and an anti-semite. Nothing worse than we've already seen, but just FYI...

**Monday, November 10, 1958**

Dís took another anxious glance at her wristwatch, the tenth time in as many minutes.

_8:20 a.m._

There were only five more minutes left until the warning bell rang, which meant she only had five minutes in which to perform the task she had set for herself the night before, when the brilliant plan had first occurred to her. She bounced on her toes as she stood on the front steps of Pasadena High, looking out over the walk that lead up from Colorado Boulevard.

_FIVE MINUTES_! 

She sighed loudly as little fishes in her stomach began to perform one of those aqua-ballet numbers, like in an Esther Williams movie. 

"So, yesterday." Teresa Campos sat on the low wall that lined the steps and watched her best friend anxiously bounce. It had been a long time since a Monday morning had been this entertaining. "He barely said any words about homecoming?" 

"Nope, not a one," Dís shook her head, her eyes scanning the throngs of kids approaching the school, looking for that one special boy amongst them.

"And he and Thorin, they never talked about any girls? Like, the whole time? All the way to Hollywood and back?"

"No, but you know that's not all that strange. Thorin hasn't gotten into girls, yet." Dís turned and lightly slapped TC who had started snickering something awful. "Ohhh...get your mind out of the gutter, chickie, you know what I mean!"

"Yeah, but you gotta say it _is_ kinda strange." Teresa knew all about how Thorin, when he did agree to date a girl, could only manage to stick with her for a couple of weeks, tops. This had been true the year before when he had dated her older sister, Letitia. How she and Dís had hoped a wedding would make them actual sisters! Unfortunately, it didn't last and all Letitia would say about it, when pestered by her little sister, was that Thorin had some maturing yet to do. " A woman can't waste her time with children, _mi hermana_. Remember that."

Dís really couldn't argue with her friend. It did seem a little strange to her that girls didn't really take to her big brother. It's not like he was a bad person or ugly or anything like that. If someone as interesting and intelligent as Bilbo wanted to be his friend, then surely there must be a girl out there, somewhere, for him. "Mama says that some boys bloom later than others. He'll figure it out." Yup, that had to be it. Thorin was just a late bloomer.

"He's gonna turn 18 soon, right? Hate to tell you, DeeDee, but it's starting to look like a lot later." 

"Oh shush." Dís scolded under her breath. She didn't want to talk about the non-existence of Thorin's love life. What she needed to concentrate on was the task she had set for herself; catching Bilbo before class and asking if he had plans...if he had a date...for homecoming. She was hoping he didn't because that would solve her number one problem - she was the only one of her friends without someone to go to the dance with. Before yesterday she had been ok with that. I mean, it's just homecoming, a stupid excuse for the squares to put on tacky dresses and dance badly in the gym while teachers walk around making sure there's no necking going on. What a drag! But after getting to know Bilbo, she started to think differently about it, how it might be fun to dress up all fancy and have a boy open doors for her and bring her punch and tell her she looks pretty while he's dressed nicely himself and he knows all the songs and probably all the latest dances too. If only she wasn't so nervous! It wasn't all that kosher for a girl to ask a boy to a dance, but it wasn't like she was asking him out on a date. This was just homecoming...as friends. Yeah, just as friends. She sighed again and again looked at her watch. She felt a tug at the sleeve of her best blue cardigan.

"Well, well, well...it's your _amorcito_ at 1 o'clock."

Dís' head flew up and she looked...looked... _there_!There was Bilbo, coming up the walk, the bounce in his step making his long, cute curls flop on his forehead. He looked so snazzy in his dark green jacket and argyle sweater vest and no tie. Suddenly her nervousness was gone, replaced by happy excitement.

TC watched the guy come up the walk, looking like a shaggy pup in glasses. Sure he was cute but, "He's a four-sided square."

"No, TC, he's not. He's just about the coolest." Dís left her friend's side and made her way through the river of kids until she was almost to him. So close...

"Bilbo!" Dís called out. "Hi there!"

Bilbo turned towards her voice and smiled.

+

The first thought that had blossomed in Bilbo's brain when he had awoken that morning was of Thorin, his tall, handsome, _dreamboat_ of a boyfriend. He had lain abed a little longer than usual, his body heavy with happiness, and relived all of the moments he and Thorin had shared since that _miraculous_ Saturday evening when they had bared their hearts to one another. He had been tempted to believe that it had been nothing more than a brilliant dream, except that he had spotted the white carnation he had purchased from the flower seller on Hollywood Boulevard, floating in a small bowl of water on his nightstand. He wondered if Thorin had his red carnation out, somewhere in his room, where he could see it, or if he had had to hide it away from questioning eyes.

The second and third things that had come into his mind were the paper that was due in English class and the Italian vocabulary quiz he knew he was going to ace. Absolutely nothing to worry about there. This had been his second time writing about _Wuthering Heights_ , (his English Lit class at Michel Delving had covered that book last year) and he had had Maria Ellena quiz him on his Italian while also teaching him the same words in her native Spanish. The day was going to be better than good!

As the bus had rumbled its way through downtown Pasadena, Bilbo had gazed out the window, but instead of a bustling city on a sunny Monday morning, he had only seen the events of the past 38 hours; that knock-out car with Thorin behind the wheel, Dís and her boisterous friends, popcorn and strawberry soda as James Dean spoke directly to him, that look in Thorin's eyes and the way his hand had felt, cupping Bilbo's cheek and _knowing_ that the secret he had been carrying for weeks was also Thorin's and that FINALLY they could both set it free. And then Hollywood and all of the fantastic things he had seen there and kissing Thorin inside the garden wall! He felt as if he were walking in the most romantic, rose-tinted dream, instead of down the sidewalk, amongst his fellow students. That was, until he heard his name being called.

"Bilbo!" The familiar girl's voice had come from somewhere to his right. "Hi there!"

Up ahead he could see a jumping, waving, flurry of black ring curls which could only mean it was Thorin's wonderful little sister. "Good morning, Miss Dís!" He called out while quickly glancing around, hoping to catch an eyeful of his... _his_!...man, but Thorin was nowhere in sight.

"Good morning! Oh Bilbo, It's so great to see you!" Dís bubbled, perhaps a tad too loudly. The little fishes had started doing pirouettes on the tips of their fins. "Wasn't yesterday just about the best time ever?"

Bilbo couldn't help chuckling, the girl's energy was contagious. "It was! The whole day was great...I don't remember the last time I had so much fun. Thanks again for inviting me, Dís...you and your brother sure do know how to make a guy feel truly welcome. Were you heading to class?" He took a step towards the front steps of the school but Dís' hand on his arm stilled him.

"Uhh...yes, but first," The girl's heart started beating hard and she pulled her hand away. "I...uh...need to ask you something. It's kind of important." 

Bilbo's heart nearly stopped. Important? What was so important that she had to ask him before class? He had noticed her friend from Saturday night...Teresa Campos, wasn't that her name?...sitting up at the top of the steps, obviously watching them. Suddenly he was afraid that Dís had seen something yesterday she shouldn't have. But how could she have? He and Thorin had been well inside the garden wall...she couldn't have seen! But what if she had? How would he ever explain...

"Oh yeah?" Bilbo could hear a squeak in his voice and he knew he was doing a terrible job at faking nonchalance. "What is it?"

This was it! Dís smoothed her now sweaty palms over her neatly pressed pleated skirt and cleared her throat. "I, um...I was wondering...do you have a date for homecoming?"

Homecoming! The relief was so great Bilbo's knees went a little soft. Oh thank goodness! But then he realized he was wearing a relieved smile while Dís' face was the dictionary definition of _expectation_. His smile fell. "I do, actually. I agreed to to take my cousin Evendím some weeks ago."

"Oh, I see." Dís muttered, wrapped up in cold disappointment, while a conniption fit of sorts was being acted out inside her head, "Evendím Took? That stuck-up snob! EWWWWW!"

Bilbo hated seeing the disappointment on Dís' face more than he had hated admitting that he had to take his spoiled cousin to the dance. He already knew the answer to his next question, but he had to ask. "Do you have a date?"

"No," Dís suddenly felt extremely foolish. Who was she to think that someone older and refined like Bilbo would take someone like her to homecoming? He wasn't a dope! He had to understand just how important a person's social standing at PHS was. After all, he was a richie, just like Evendím and her whole obnoxious crowd. Of course, he'd go with one of them. His cousin probably thought she was doing him a favor by letting him take her. Dís deflated a little more. "I was kind of hoping we could go...you know, just as friends, but if you already have a date..." She turned, ready to run, the embarrassment starting to make her cheeks tingle, but a hand was holding hers and she froze.

"Oh, Dís, I'm so sorry." Bilbo could see the blush that colored the girl's face and understood it well. He squeezed her hand before letting go. "I would've been honored to take you to the dance. If there was any way I could get out of taking Evie I would, but I promised her a while ago and I can't back out now, not with the dance this weekend." If there were ANY way of getting out of taking - what was it that Thorin had called her? Oh yeah, _Ever- dim_! - he would. In a heartbeat! "You could ask your brother to take..." The grimace on Dís' face was enough to shut down that train of thought right away. "Or not."

"Don't get me wrong! I love my brother, but showing up at the Homecoming dance with him? That's something a girl can never live down...and I still have three years of this insane asylum to deal with. Not that he'd go, anyway. Did you know gets asked every year and every year he turns them down? School dances are most definitely not a scene for the likes of him. I don't know why he has to be such a pill."

"Aww, come on," Bilbo giggled, "Your brother's a really sweet guy. Oh, Dís...I'm sorry! If there was anything I could do..."

"It's o.k. You're really peachy for saying that. I don't feel so dumb for asking anymore."

**_RING-G-G-G!!!_ **

The five minute warning bell rang out loudly and, what seemed like, right above their heads. "I guess we better get to class," Bilbo said, the residual ringing in his ears nearly drowning out his own words, "What do you have first period?"

Dís started up the steps to where her books were, sitting next to Teresa who had watched the entire show. "I've got French, first thing."

"Ahh... _parlez-vous français_?" Bilbo asked, trying hard not say it with an Italian accent.

" _Un petit peu_." Dís answered, flipping out of her skull. "Oh," she thought to herself, "even his pronunciation is perfect!"

Bilbo laughed, "Yeah, me too. A _very_ little. Hey, mind if I walk you to class?"

"Oh no, I would love it! I just to need to...uh...grab my books." Dís skipped away to snatch up her stack of books and Bilbo watched her speak to her friend and the friend waved her away, shouting "Catch you at first break!"

"You got it TC!" Dís skipped back to Bilbo's side. She might not be going to homecoming with him, but at that moment she felt like the luckiest girl, being walked to class by the coolest boy on campus. Even if not everybody knew this about him yet. But she did!

Teresa watched Bilbo open the front door for Dís. She had never seen her friend such a ball of giggling and blushing before...certainly not over a boy at school. Dís had babbled something to her, as she'd been gathering up her books, about how homecoming was a no-go, "but he's walking me to class, want to come?" 

"No, no, you go," TC had waved her bubbling, burbling friend away. "Catch you at first break!" And then Dís was away, inside the building, the boy she hadn't been able to stop talking about all morning at her side. "Just as friends!" She had kept saying, trying to convince TC that she hadn't been fibbing Saturday night...she did not have a crush! 

Teresa Campos hoisted her books in her arms and stood up. She really needed to haul it if she didn't want to be late for Algebra. Chuckling softly to herself, she whispered, quietly, under her breath, "Just friends? My _culo, chica_ ."

++++++++

**Lunch Break...**

"Oh Toggie! You're so FUNNY!" 

And, apparently he was, because the lunch table had erupted in a raucous explosion of hilarity. And the loudest amongst the well-groomed group was none other than Evendím Took, one of the prettiest, wealthiest, and most popular girls on campus (if you believed all the hype and she most certainly did). Flipping a lock of her naturally sun-bleached blonde hair over her shoulder, her eyes flitting from person to person, she admired everyone as they admired her boyfriend, PHS' own resident B.M.O.C. Togo Goodbody, class of '59 - Toggie to only his closest friends. And to Evendím's - Evie to only her closest friends - delight, everyone was. They were all hanging onto his every word, worshipping him like a golden idol. Everyone, that is, but Bilbo. Evie positively seethed as she looked down the table at her cousin, who sat apart from everyone, as he usually did, unsocial as ever, eating his lunch, and reading...what was that he was reading this time? A comic book? A shiver of revulsion wriggled through her. Oh, if only daddy hadn't given her the task of befriending her weird cousin from moldy old San Francisco! All because sickie Aunt Bella was grandmother's favorite. 

"Bilbo Baggins is a four-eyes, bad news shrimp!" She had whined after the first day of showing her big snooze of a cousin around school and introducing him to all of her friends. But all her daddy had said to her was that she should just repeat the words "trust fund" to herself when things got tough. Couldn't you just cry? But Evie always did what daddy told her to do, and those two little words were always on her mind, no time more so than when she had been explaining to Bilbo why he had to take her to homecoming...

("Well, you see, Bilbie, my Toggy has a prior commitment. Besides, I can't let you sit home, alone with grandmother...what kind of cousin would I be? Don't you worry about dancing since I don't suppose you know how. Oh, and don't forget, I'm wearing pink!")

Evie scooted herself daintily down the bench until she sat beside Bilbo who was flipping the garishly colored page of his comic. She watched him take a bite of his sandwich, engrossed in the nonsense he was reading and effectively ignoring her. Wishing she could just wash her hands of this whole situation, she steeled her resolve ( _trustfundtrustfundtrustfund_ ) and moved a hair closer.

"Bilbie, sweetie, why don't you join the party?"

Bilbo had been happily immersed in the issue of OUTER SPACE comics that Jimmy had loaned him when he heard his cousin's simpering voice, demanding his attention. He had been hoping he'd be able to get through lunch without having to talk to her or any of her unpleasant circle of friends. That they had decided against attending the rally in the gym celebrating the first day of Spirit Week had come as a disappointment to him, which is why he was glad he had the comic to read while he ate his deviled ham on fluffy, white bread. He had figured that that should've been enough to keep the generally obnoxious crew away, but as he soon realized, nothing could deter Evie when she had an agenda. And, apparently, kissing up to him was first and foremost on her list. Setting his half of sandwich down, he wiped his mouth and hands on his napkin. "Hi Evie." He said.

"We're having a real blast over there, you should join us." Evie nudged Bilbo's shoulder with her own before waving at Togo. Bilbo looked down the table just in time to see the very blonde, very tan Togo, a bona fide jerk on a good day, whisper something in his best friend's ear. The friend, a condescending creep of the first water, looked right at Bilbo, nodding and laughing, before sliding Togo some palm skin. Bilbo quickly looked away.

"You know, Evie, if it's all the same to you, I would rather just eat my lunch and go. There's some work I need to do in the library."

"Oh yeah? Or maybe there's a certain someone you're itching to run off to meet."

"What?" Bilbo's heart started hammering. The truth was that he was more than ready to jump up and run off to find Thorin, who would be waiting for him, up at the bleachers by the football field. And if he didn't leave soon, his new boyfriend was sure to come looking for him. 

"Don't play coy, now. I saw you walking to class with that girl this morning. Little Jewish girl, isn't she? What's her name?"

"Dís..."

"Yes, that's the one. Isn't she that _Thorin_ character's little sister?"

Bilbo bristled at the sound of Thorin's name, spoken with such obvious contempt, coming out of his uppity cousin's mouth. "Yes she is. She also happens to be my very good friend. And so is her brother."

"Oh Bilbie, why do you insist on associating with _those_ people? Next you'll be making friends with Mexicans."

It was all Bilbo could do to maintain a civil tongue. "I'll associate with whomever I choose to."

"But Bilbie," Evie laid on her famous whine, the one that bested daddy (almost) every time, "I thought I told you..."

"Evie!" Bilbo hissed, under his breath. He couldn't listen to any more. "Please, just stop. Thorin and Dís are my friends, so I would appreciate it if you would stop talking about them like that when you're around me. Listen...if you no longer want to go to Homecoming with me, I'll understand."

Evendím looked right at her cousin's face, all prissy peach fuzz and freckles and those stupid glasses. "Why?" She wanted to ask, "So you can take that little Heeb?" She wanted so badly to tell him right then and there that going to homecoming with someone like him, who would fraternize with such undesirables, was the very _last_ thing she wanted to do. But instead, she did her daddy proud and, putting on her prettiest smile, she shook her head.

"Oh, no, Bilbie, I would never _dream_ of backing out on you now. Just you wait, we're going to have the best time," she gestured down the table at her friends, conceited and self-important to a person. "All of us."

Bilbo's heart sank with Evendím's words tied around it like an anchor. He had really hoped that she was going to give him his out and he'd be free to take Dís, but no such luck. "Fine." He said, closing his comic book and slipping it into his satchel. "I do need to go, though. I'll see you later." And, grabbing up the leftovers of his lunch, he tossed them in the large trash can and off he stalked, angrily, across the campus.

"Where's the nerdy bird flopping off to?" Togo asked Evendím when she rejoined the group. This elicited laughter from everyone. Evie merely shrugged.

"Oh, I don't know, where ever it is squares go around here. Now, Toggie, sweetie, tell us that funny story about your gardener..."

++++++++

**Lunch break...bleachers by the football field**

Nori didn't believe a word of it. Not. One. Word. 

I mean...alright, if he had to pick which one of the guys _should_ be lucky enough to run into the one and only Marlon Brando...well, of course he'd pick Thorin. Poor schmuck didn't seem to have much luck when it came to running into girls, that was for damned sure! But...Marlon Brando? The Wild One? Not a chance! Nori might not've been the brightest penny in the bag, but he was no dope! And this was one fish story he wasn't going to buy right off the hook. No one he knew could get that lucky.

"You are full of shit, Durin! You know that?" 

"No, Nori, I don't, actually. Why don't you hum a few bars." Thorin laughed good-naturedly. He'd had an inkling that none of the guys would believe his story about meeting their collective idol, Marlon Brando, at Pickwick Books in Hollywood, least of all Nori who most days had to be convinced the sky was blue.

"Why did he ask you about poetry?" Bofur was also not so convinced by Thorin's tale. "That seems kinda like a strange thing for someone like Marlon Brando to ask a stranger about. Are you sure it was really him?"

"Yeah," Nori backed Bofur up, "That's what I wanna know. Why poetry? Sounds kinda fruity for Brando."

Dwalin pulled away from the intoxicatingly sweet-scented crook of Sherilyn's neck, where he'd had his face buried for the past five minutes. "And how would _you_ know what's fruity, Nori? You been hittin' the poetry books lately? Huh?"

Thorin waved Nori's comment away, trying not to think about the implications as they applied to himself. "All reading poetry means is that he's educated, which explains your confusion."

"Don't listen to him, Thorin." Sherilyn chimed in. "Nori's just jealous. He wouldn't know Marlon Brando if he came up and bit him on the ass."

"Thanks, doll." Thorin gave Sherilyn a wink which he followed up by giving Dwalin a sign to let him know it had been purely innocent.

"Great!" Nori thought to himself, "Now Sherilyn's giving her two bits on the subject!" He knew better than to back talk her, not if he didn't want to end up a bag of goo at the end of Dwalin's fist. But, just then, he spotted Bilbo Baggins cresting the top of the stairs that lead to the football field. Thorin's scrappy little stray. The fun didn't have to end quite yet.

"Yo! Short stack!" He shouted, "You were there...tells us it ain't true about Durin running into Brando!" Nori yelled.

As soon as he'd heard the boisterous sounds of Thorin and his friends, the weight Bilbo had been carrying in his chest since leaving the lunch table lightened by a ton, and he had scampered quickly up the stairs, only to be belted by Nori's rudely worded question. Taking a very deliberate look around himself, Bilbo shook his head, a sardonic grin appearing on his face.

"Now, I know you can't possibly be talking to me, but I don't see anyone else around. So, that can only mean that you're seeing people who aren't here. Sounds like you've got a whopper of a personal problem, Nori. You might want to see a doctor about that."

Bilbo's sass was rewarded with a wall of laughter, including Nori's. The chief smart-ass stood up and gave the kid a bow of well-earned respect. And Thorin...well, he merely leaned back against the bleacher bench behind him, proud as punch of his man with the lightening quick tongue, and clapped, slowly. As Bilbo made his way closer, Thorin got a flash of memory...of Saturday night...Bilbo on his lap...curious hands on his chest, moving lower...hot breath on his neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there...he found himself subconsciously tugging on the buttoned up collar of his shirt, the evidence of his very first love bite hidden beneath.

"But," Bilbo resumed, pleased by the gang's reaction, "to answer your question: yes, I was there but I wasn't _there_ , so no...I didn't actually see Mr. Brando, but I know Thorin to be a man of his word so yes, it is true...every word."

Thorin's heart sped up and he no longer paid any attention to the jabbering around him. His eyes were glued to Bilbo, quickly approaching him, and he realized that now began the toughest test of his life; maintaining a coolness that didn't betray the heat that was building, rapidly, inside himself. He sat up, every nerve ending tickling every cell in his body, and he couldn't help blushing the second Bilbo made eye contact,

"Hey kiddo," He greeted his squeeze as casually as he could manage, "What's shaking?"

"Hopefully not the San Andreas!" Bilbo shot out, riding high on the wave his earlier cleverness had earned him. He smiled brightly at Thorin, who gave him an approving nod, and then at the other fellas; Bofur, Nori, Dwalin, and...well, well...the pretty brunette could only be _the_ Miss Horne. He nodded to her, giving her a big smile, before turning all of his attention back to Thorin, sitting right in front of him.

"I hope you don't mind, but I wasn't digging the...uh...scene, so I thought I might hang with you cats, if you're copacetic to the idea, that is." 

"Sure! Come on and get in here," Thorin slapped the bench next to him. Too late, he realized his voice had sounded almost too friendly...over-animated...to himself and, probably, everyone else as well. Awww...there was no way he was fooling anybody! "Take a load off and stay awhile. You know everyone here..."

"Not everyone." Bilbo was smiling at Sherilyn who was practically sitting in Dwalin's lap, and the sight left Thorin feeling a little strange since he was about to introduce his boyfriend to the last girl he kissed...or would ever kiss. 

"Bilbo, This is Sherilyn, Dwalin's better half..."

"Much better," Nori sniggered under his breath.

Bilbo climbed up the first couple rows of benches and held his hand out, "Hi, Sherilyn, it's a pleasure to meet you."

Sherilyn took it, "Well, hello there, Bilbo Baggins. The pleasure is all mine."

Bilbo blushed.

"I thought you ran in high society." Bofur made room for Bilbo on the bench between him and Thorin.

"You can have it! The whole awful bunch of 'em!" Bilbo complained as he lifted the strap of his satchel up and over his head. 

"Oh yeah?" Thorin scooted over only as far as he absolutely had to, to give Bilbo room to sit down. "What is it this time? Does Ever-dim want you to take her to homecoming in a horse-drawn chariot or something?"

"You goin' to homecoming with Evendím Took?" Sherilyn asked, her tone containing even levels of curiosity and repulsion.

Bilbo nodded, sadly, "Unfortunately, yes. I thought she was going to give me an out today, but no such luck."

"Why? What happened?" Thorin had been hoping something would happen and Bilbo's plans for the coming Saturday would be nixed. There were races happening that night in Riverside, and they would be a whole lot better with Bilbo at his side.

Bilbo shook his head, "I'd rather not talk about it right now." 

"Bitch," Thorin whispered under his breath. "I'm sorry...I know she's your family but..."

Bilbo turned to face Thorin, their knees touching. "Don't apologize. Not for her. Ever. O.k.?"

"You know what would be really cool?" Bofur suddenly butted in, "If a spaceship came down, with one of those big silver robots in it, like in that movie...you know, the one with what's-his-face, um, Michael Rennie. Yeah! Okay, so, you've got this big silver robot and he goes around and makes shit disintegrate with that laser beam that shoots out of his face, but he only takes out really awful people, right? Mean people like your cousin, Bilbo. That would be cool."

Bilbo couldn't help but laugh at Bofur's brilliant idea. "You know what? I think you've really got something there! We could use a Gort around here." And that's when he felt Thorin's foot nudging against his own. "Who needs a Gort?" He thought to himself as he nudged back.

"Have lunch up here with us from now on." Thorin offered, impulsively. He wasn't about to think about the problems that could cause. "Whadda ya say, Bilbs?"

"Really?" Bilbo was thrilled by Thorin's suggestion and not a little bit surprised. No more lunches spent in odious company would be a godsend but, eventually someone was sure to put one and one together, if they hadn't already. This charade of theirs was going to get harder and harder with every passing day.

"Yeah, why not?" Thorin asked, that crooked grin Bilbo loved so much plastered on his face.

"I can't think of a reason." Bilbo lied through his teeth, "Wow...thank you, Thorin. That's very kind of you." 

"Hey," Thorin leaned in and said, softly, for Bilbo's ears only, "Anything for you."

Bilbo had to look away. Thorin's mere presence was making him fidgety and blushy and it certainly didn't help that Dwalin and Sherilyn were sucking face only a few benches behind them. On top of that, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing, or too much, in the presence of other people. This was tougher than he could have ever imagined.

"Let's take a walk," Thorin patted Bilbo on the knee, "It's getting a little ripe around here," And he nodded towards his otherwise engaged best friend. It was a real bitch having to be around the love birds when all he wanted was to be able to put on his own lovey dove show with his guy. Even Nori and Bofur were splitting, claiming they wanted to get in some of the Spirit Week rally before it ended. Bilbo was all too happy to say yes and even took Thorin's hand, offered as a help up off the bench. 

"Lead on, MacDuff." Bilbo's chuckle was infused with a shiver of nerves. And Thorin did, out into the deserted football field. "Thank you, I was beginning to feel like I was in a play, back there."

Thorin nodded, "I know what you mean...a play with no script."

"Exactly...do you think we fooled them?"

"Yeah, sure I do. I don't want to sound like a jerk, but I know these guys, and I honestly don't think they're going to pay all that much attention to you. I mean, if you went and grew a pair of tits they might, but..." Thorin was only too happy to hear Bilbo laugh.

"Well," Bilbo had a feeling that Thorin had his friends pegged, "then I don't think we have anything to worry about, do you?"

"Not a damn thing, baby. So...how's your mom doing?"

"O.k., I suppose. She was awake this morning and wanted to hear all about Hollywood...and you. I told her I had a wonderful time. I even," Bilbo took a quick look around to make sure they were completely alone, "told her how you came after me and we kissed in the garden."

Thorin looked down at Bilbo, surprised. "You told your mom about that?"

"Sure, why not?" But then Bilbo remembered that this wasn't something that Thorin could share with his mom and he instantly regretted his words. "Oh...I'm sorry..."

"No, don't be sorry. One of these days I'll tell her...she won't be happy about it, but...hey!" Thorin snapped his fingers, a memory from the day before shooting off sparks in his brain. "I did tell someone! About you and me!"

"You did?" Bilbo couldn't tell if the news made him happy for Thorin or worried for them. "Who was it?"

"I told Balin, you know, my cousin."

"The owner of the car."

"Right! Well, see, the thing about him that I didn't tell you is that he's like us."

"He's gay?" Bilbo whispered under his breath, flabbergasted by this bit of news. "Dwalin's brother? That Dwalin...back there?"

"Yeah. And he's a lawyer so of course he knows all of the legal rigmarole about being...you know. You shoulda been there, he laid the whole deal out pretty clearly. Says we gotta be careful. He sure is dying to meet you."

"He is?" Bilbo was quickly falling in love with the idea that a member of Thorin's family knew about him and, so far, approved.

"He wants to have us over to meet some of his friends. I'm guessing they're all fruits, I don't know." Thorin chuckled.

Bilbo laughed. "Do you think we're fruits?"

The question made Thorin stop. "I don't know." He finally said. "I don't feel like a fruit, whatever that means. Don't feel different at all, except that I know I'm 110% in love with you. If that makes me a fruit, then..." He shrugged.

"To be honest, I don't care for the word myself." Bilbo stopped and looked up into the face of the man he loved and never before had he felt so confident of himself when next he said, "I'm gay. Which also means happy, light-hearted, which is exactly how I feel when I'm with you."

What Thorin would've given to be able to kiss Bilbo, right there on the Bulldogs' 50 yard line!Instead, he settled with a friendly hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Well, then I'm gay too. You make me happier than I've ever been. Ever. Anyway," He continued their stroll towards the far goal post, "Balin says we shouldn't've done what we did in the car...it would've been too easy for cops to bust in on us."

"Oh...I didn't even think about that." Bilbo's blood went icy thinking of the awful implications of an arrest. "We _are_ lucky, aren't we?"

Thorin smiled down at Bilbo, "You know what? I think you're changing my mind on this whole luck business. The good news is, Balin told me that if we need someplace to hang out, where we can be private, that he'll let us use his apartment. It's a choice pad, I think you're gonna dig it."

"Wow! He did? That was extremely generous of him. I am really looking forward to meeting this cousin of yours. But you know...you are welcome at my house, anytime. Both mom and grandma really want to meet you."

Thorin still couldn't help feeling more than a little nervous about meeting Belladonna and Adamanta Took. He had a fear that they would find him lacking and not at all good enough for their boy. "I hope I don't disappoint them." He muttered.

"That's impossible," Bilbo made sure to "accidentally" bump into Thorin. "They're going to love you as much as I do."

"So," Thorin decided to change the subject for something a bit less nerve rattling, "Can you tell me what Evendím said to piss you off?"

"Where do I start?" Bilbo scoffed.

"At the beginning is usually a good place." Thorin kidded, trying to lighten Bilbo's mood. 

"Oh...I don't know, Thorin, I really would rather not."

"Why? What'd she say? She didn't say anything about me, did she?"

"Only in passing."

"About the guys?"

"No. It wasn't the guys...look, Thorin..." Bilbo wished he would just let the subject die a merciful death.

"Well, who else..." And then it hit Thorin, right between the eyes. Oh, if that snotty little... "Don't tell me she said something about Dís."

"Ok," Bilbo forced a very strained smile, "I won't then."

Thorin came to a dead stop. "What the hell is her problem with my sister?"

"This morning, I ran into Dís on the front steps and walked her to class. Evie must've seen us."

"What business is it of hers who you walk to class? You're her cousin, not her boyfriend."

Bilbo looked down at the scuff on the toe of his right penny loafer and sighed. "She doesn't think I should be associating with either you or Dís."

"And why the fuck not?" Thorin clenched his fists as he fought to keep the volume of his voice in check.

"Because..." Bilbo wished to God he could lie to Thorin, just about this one thing, but he couldn't. "Because you're Jewish. I just don't understand any of it."

Thorin lost all of the expression on his face and his voice went low and cold, "Really. She said that to you?"

Bilbo nodded. "I didn't want to tell you, but I don't want there to be secrets between us. Ever."

Thorin took a deep breath. His normal reaction to such news would've been to go find the waste of life and teach them a lesson about shooting their fool mouths off, but Bilbo was standing in front of him, a silent plea in those green eyes, and Thorin realized he would have to handle this in a much different manner. "Neither do I, baby. Hey...don't look so glum. I'm glad you told me. I'm just sorry you had to hear that."

Bilbo made a huge sigh of relief, happy with the way Thorin was handling this news. "It's ok. I mean...no, it's not ok, but I expected it, so...there are always going to be people who believe in awful ideas. And unfortunately, I am related to some of them. But it doesn't change who I am and it doesn't change what I believe. To hell with Evendím and her crowd! No one is ever going to stop me from hanging around my Jewish friends." Bilbo poked his finger into Thorin's solid wall of a chest, "Especially this one."

Thorin grabbed a hold of that finger and for a couple of seconds he held onto it and all of the anger he had felt a moment ago was suddenly gone and he found himself fighting to keep from pressing a kiss to it, until Bilbo gently pulled it away. 

And they continued their walk, 

"So," Thorin shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, where they would stay out of trouble, "what was on the brat's mind this morning? Did she have her flock with her?"

"No," Bilbo swung his arms back and forth, wishing he hadn't left his school bag and his jacket back at the bleachers. His poor hands, which wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in Thorin's, had nothing to hold on to or a convenient pocket to hide in. And his trouser pockets were definitely off limits. "No, it was just her and...Teresa? Yeah...OH! But get this...Dís asked me if I had a date for homecoming." 

"She..." Thorin knew he had just heard that all wrong, "What?"

"Your sister asked me if I was going to homecoming. I absolutely _hated_ telling her who I had to go with. Poor thing, she really did seem disappointed. She told me she's the only one out of all of her friends who doesn't have a date. That's another reason why I was really hoping Evie was going to let me off the hook today."

Still trying to wrap his brain around the idea of his sister asking Bilbo to homecoming, Thorin suggested, "Just call it off with her. The little rat has it coming, you know." And he hoped he'd be around as a witness if that drama ever did unfold.

Oh, if only Bilbo could..."I know," he explained, "but I gave her my word. And I was raised to believe that a man is only as good as his word. I can't just back out, not even on her. It's best if I just go and get it over with. And then that's it! I am done with her."

"Thing I don't get is," Thorin said, still completely baffled by his little sister, "since when has she cared about homecoming? Just the other day she was going on about what a waste of time the whole thing was...kind of sounded like me." What Thorin didn't say was that, if he didn't know his little sister better, he'd guess she had herself a little crush on the curly haired boy with the glasses. But, no...there was no way, not while Elvis Presley roamed the planet.

Bilbo took off his perpetually smudged glasses and, fogging the lenses with his breath, rubbed them on his shirt sleeve. "I have to admit, I found it very flattering. I've never been asked to a dance by a girl before." 

"Never? Like...really?" Thorin found himself truly surprised by Bilbo's admission. He took a quick look at the boy strolling next to him...the ridiculously cute boy next to him and he was positive that all the girls back in San Francisco needed their eyes examined.

"Nope." Bilbo shook his head, "Girls have never shown much interest in me. Probably because of these," He set his glasses back on his face, "and, by the time fifth grade rolled around, most of them were taller than me."

"That, and...uh..." Thorin looked sideways at his boyfriend and nudged him with his elbow, "maybe it was you being a fairy and all."

Bilbo's head swiveled rapidly on his neck, "What did you call me?" Of all the rude, pot-calling-the-kettle-black...

Thorin's grin was so wide, he had a hard time making words come out of his mouth. "You heard me, pipsqueak."

"Pipsqueak?" Bilbo was a blur as he pounced in front of Thorin, playfully punching him, "And who do you think you're calling fairy, you fairy! Last I heard, Mr. Durin, it takes one to know one."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin put up his dukes to ward off the attack, but there was no mistaking the fun he was having by the blinding white of his toothy grin. "I'll show you a fairy." And he planted a punch to Bilbo's jaw that was barely a tap. 

"Oh you beast!" Bilbo complained with a show of mock pain that included giggling. "You're going to pay for that!"

Thorin bent over until his face was on the level with Bilbo's "And how's that?"

Bilbo looked deep into those blue eyes and Thorin thought he could almost read Bilbo's mind and a shiver of delicious anticipation surged throughout his body. 

Bilbo patted Thorin on the cheek and started to walk away. "You're just going to have to wait and see."

"You're nothing but a tease, Bilbo Baggins." Thorin called out as he watched Bilbo walk away, appreciating the way baggy trousers fit a nicely rounded tush.

Bilbo stopped and waited for Thorin to catch up. "We'll see about that." 

"Oh yeah? When?"

"Wednesday, of course."

Wednesday! Wednesday was the day he would have Bilbo over to his house, all alone and all to himself, and they'd exchange...well, whatever it was they were going to exchange. And then...after that? Now, that was going to be the _real_ surprise.

"Too bad we can't carry on like your friends." Bilbo looked back the way they'd come, to Dwalin and Sherilyn, right where they'd left them on the bleachers, except now they were snuggled up; talking and smoking. "Were you like that...with her?"

Thorin chuckled, "No. Not like that. Not that I didn't give it a try...I just...didn't work. She's a great kid...smart...always ready for a good time, but..." He met Bilbo's eyes and they shared a knowing look. "Now...if you and I could get away with necking like that, we wouldn't do it there on the bleachers." 

"No? And where would we do it?" Bilbo put an emphasis on the last two words that left poor Thorin light-headed. 

"If it were all up to me, I'd take you _under_ the bleachers."

"You would, would you?" Bilbo asked, enjoying this flirty little game they were playing, out in the open, as a car on the other side of the fence rumbled down Del Mar Boulevard. "What happens there?"

"Little boys who go to church with their grandmas do things she wouldn't approve of."

Bilbo snickered, "You've never met my grandmother." 

"Oh, that's right! You tell the old girl everything. But, did you tell her about this?" And he stopped long enough to pull down the collar of his shirt so Bilbo could see the yellowish-green reminder of their backseat escapades.

A shiver went through Bilbo at the sight of the hickey he gave Thorin and the memory of his warm, hard body underneath him. "So," he swallowed hard, "That's why you're wearing a collar shirt today."

"Uh huh." Thorin nodded, slowly.

Bilbo wanted to be kissed so badly that he couldn't stand still, not with Thorin right there, looking at him, those blue eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth. This was becoming IMPOSSIBLE! Biting his lower lip, he strode quickly away, heading for the fence that separated the school grounds from the sidewalk and the outside world. Thorin trotted behind in order to catch up.

"I'm sorry," Thorin was saying as he reached Bilbo, "I suppose I shouldn't talk like that."

Bilbo stopped at the fence and wrapped his fingers around the chain-links. "Don't be sorry, it's my fault, too. It's just that it's so much fun to finally be able to flirt with you like this, without being afraid that I'm going to lose you as a friend. I suppose it's much too easy to get carried away."

Thorin leaned against the fence, and held on, his hand only inches from Bilbo's. "Did you really have a crush on me? All this time that we've known each other?" 

Bilbo looked at that hand, marveling that he now knew what it felt like for it to be entwined with his own, and nodded. "Almost from the moment I first laid eyes on you. When you were sitting there, on that bench...Yes, I've wanted you ever since." Bilbo reached out and tugged on the front of Thorin's shirt before sliding past him, through the opening in the fence.

Thorin rested his forehead on the fence for a couple of seconds and let that sink in. How long had it been, now, since they met? Six...seven weeks? And all that time, Bilbo had been holding in his true feelings, afraid of losing his new friend. Thorin wished he could go back in time and tell himself all of the little secrets it had taken so long for him to dig out of his clueless brain so as to spare his marvelous man all of the doubt and longing he must have experienced. Digging his pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket, he followed Bilbo through the fence..

Standing on the sidewalk, Bilbo looked at the row of neat homes on the other side of the street and felt as if he had just been inside a box and some benevolent giant had gently picked him up and taken him out, releasing him from captivity. The outside world! It was kind of amazing how different things seemed on this side of the fence. All it would take would be for him to put one foot in front of the other...if he could keep that up, he'd be down the street, on Colorado Boulevard, on a bus, or better yet, on the back of Thorin's bike. And they'd be gone. Far from here.

Stretching up on his toes, he raised his arms over his head and breathed in the free air.

"You gonna up, up, and away, Superman?"

Bilbo fell back to earth, which was fine, because Thorin was right there, behind him, taking a drag off a cigarette. And, for the first time, he was half-tempted to ask him for one. He chuckled.

"Not today, but one day, I sure will."

Thorin felt a light inside himself dim. "And where are you gonna fly off to?"

"Oh..." Bilbo wrapped his arm around a street lamp and swung around it. "I'm just gonna go home...start college. Become a part of this great big world."

"You...uh..." Thorin kicked at a rock, "planning on doing that all by yourself?" 

Bilbo hugged the lamp post tight and looked up at Thorin, wishing with all his might that he could kiss away the sad he saw, cold and lonely, in the corners of his boy's eyes. Smiling, encouragingly, he ran his fingertips down the length of Thorin's arm, just grazing the side of his hand. "I hope not."

That sputtering little light roared back to life as Thorin softly pinched Bilbo's chin between his thumb and index finger. "I got something...here..." He stuck his hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a crumbled piece of torn binder paper. Looking it over quickly as he took a drag, he then shoved it back where it had come from. Looking deep in to Bilbo's eyes, he spoke...

"... _and I could see the greater vision of San Francisco beyond, like jewels in the night_."

Bilbo sucked a load of air into his lungs...thrilled, astonished, and nearly speechless. "You...you started reading it?" He asked, incredulous, since he had decided the night before that giving the book to Thorin had been an act of pure ego and he hadn't actually expected him to read it.

"Yeah, of course. It's pretty great..."

"You really like it?"

"Well, yeah. You nailed it, baby, choosing that one. It's really speaking to me...making me see that there is more to this world than three blocks and a gas station. I realize, now, that a young man kind of owes it to himself to get out there and see the country, meet people, really live. You know what I'd like to do? Today, if I could."

"What, Thorin?" Bilbo asked, his voice hushed, but his soul screaming, "What is it you'd like to do?"

Thorin dropped his cigarette and smashed it under his boot. "Kidnap you."

"Kidnap me?" This was too much! Snapping his fingers, Bilbo began to walk down the sidewalk, backwards. "I am digging your rap, man. Sounds _dangerous_. Tell me more!"

Thorin followed after his little beatnik, rolling with the vibe that was booming around them. "Yeah. I'd grab you when you least suspected it and I'd throw you in my old woody."

Bilbo had to laugh. "The woody? You mean that bucket of bolts..."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Mr. Fancy-Pants...that bucket of bolts! See...When I get that baby up on its four, and street legal, we're gonna squeal on out of here."

"Oh...how I like the sound of that, daddy-o!"

Thorin held up a couple of fingers, "On two wheels." 

"Won't that be a riot!"

"Don't you know it! And we'll get out of here, baby! Solid gone! Just you and me. Nothing but kicks...all the way there and back again."

Bilbo stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, "And where is there, loverboy?" 

"Ohhh..." Thorin felt a hunger, deep down, surge. And it had nothing to do with food. "Wherever you want it to be." 

"What if I say that I want you to take me to the ends of the earth?"

"Then that's where we'll go first." 

In a flash, the future that Bilbo had laid out for himself, once he was done with high school and Pasadena, was no more. Vanished. All of it. And now a new path lay in front of him; the open road, with Thorin at the wheel. Just the two of them. Really living! "Do you promise?" He asked, his desire wearing him like a suit. "One day we'll go?"

It came off of Bilbo in waves, this excitement...this absolute need to _go_! Thorin let it sink deep into his skin, permeating his entire body, until he felt, deliriously, that they were no longer two, but one. "Yes! Of course I promise...cross my heart and hope to die." Thorin drew an *X* over his heart with his finger. 

Bilbo grabbed at Thorin's finger and lowered it, his hand lingering on warm skin for a beat longer than it should have. "Don't you ever say that! Please...just...stay alive."

"Oh shit..." Thorin tapped the toe of Bilbo's shoe that had been scuffed by so many previous taps, wondering how he could had let something like that slip out of his mouth. "I'm so sorry, babe...Here." He could see, to his left, growing out of a crack in the pavement, a dandelion in full sunshine bloom. It was like it was there, just for him, for this exact moment, waiting to be plucked...

A car engine, getting louder, made him look up, the flower in his hand. It was a black and white making its rounds. Instinct demanded that he pull himself up and stiffen, giving the cop a look somewhere between a scowl and a glare. Bilbo, on the other hand, smiled at the officer and gave an amiable wave. The cop nodded and continued on down the street. Seeing the look on Thorin's face, Bilbo couldn't help chuckling.

"I see you have a healthy case of young-man's-disdain-for-authority."

Thorin's expression softened a little, "Fuzz. They're never around when you need them and always crashing your scene when you don't. And," he looked off into the distance, "You never want to see one at your front door."

The truth came up so fast, from that place in Bilbo's being where he kept all of his oldest, deepest truths about himself, that he had to clamp his jaw shut. He wanted to tell Thorin about that morning, so long ago now, it seemed, when a police officer...an SFPD detective to be precise...had stood at his front door...that morning when his family had been reduced by one. Instead, he looked at the yellow flower Thorin had a tight grip on.

"Is that for me?" He asked.

"Yeah. I was going to stick it behind your ear, but I didn't want to give the fuzz any ideas."

"Here," Bilbo took the flower from Thorin. He looked at it, twirling it between his fingers. "It's beautiful, isn't it? Amazing...even a weed can be beautiful." Carefully, he slid it behind his ear so that the blossom rested amongst his curls. "Whadda ya think?"

Thorin took a step closer and delicately picked a lock of hair up and moved it away from the dandelion, letting it slide, like golden silk, from between his fingers.

"Beautiful" he breathed in his husky tone.

Bilbo stood transfixed by everything Thorin was and couldn't help but to let his eyes fall to Thorin's mouth...lips slightly parted...and he found himself licking his own.

  
_ring-g-g-g_!

The warning bell was ringing, off in the distance, and the sound of students, pouring out of the gymnasium and heading for lockers and classrooms reached Bilbo and Thorin, standing on the sidewalk, on the far side of the school, aching for one another.

"I think we're being called back to earth," Bilbo pulled the flower from behind his ear. "We should probably get going."

Thorin breathed some oxygen back into his brain. School. That's right...he was at school. The last place he wanted to be. He hadn't been kidding Bilbo when he had told him that he wanted to grab him and split. As soon as he hit the auto shop, he was going to throw his everything into getting the woody running. He had a promise to keep.

"Come on, kiddo," He patted Bilbo's arm and turned in the direction of the opening in the fence. "Let's go."

++++++++

Sherilyn returned her lipstick and compact to her purse and accepted the cigarette Dwalin held out to her. With a quick flick of his wrist, a flame appeared, as if by magic, and she lit up, drawing the relaxing smoke into her lungs. She looked up at the big, blue sky and let the smoke escape from between her ruby red lips. She'd been walking on a rainbow ever since she and Dwalin had hooked up. And who would've ever guessed? Especially after the monumental let down that had happened that summer, between her and Thorin. Not her, that's for sure. But, what had started out as an excuse to stay close to one boy, had turned into what she might call a real love affair with another. A thick, heavy arm wrapped around her shoulders and she snuggled into Dwalin's side. There really was nothing better than a cig and a snuggle after a killer necking session.

Letting her gaze wander over the football field, she watched Thorin and his new friend pretend to fight one another, and, from where she sat, she could tell they had big smiles on their faces. Her curiosity about Bilbo had been peaked from the moment she had locked eyes with him. Awfully pretty eyes, the boy had, trapped behind those egghead specs. Almost as pretty as Thorin's. 

"Hey, Dwal," She laid a hand on his knee and squeezed, "Who's the Mickey Mouse?"

Dwalin woke from the reverie that Sherilyn's perfume was inspiring. It had just been him and her in a grassy meadow full of flowers...and not a single other person...or stitch of clothing...in sight. 

"Who? You mean Bilbo? He's just some kid we kept from getting an ass-kicking. I think Thorin feels some kind of responsibility towards him now. It also may be 'cause he reminds him of Frerin a little bit."

Sherilyn had heard all about Frerin, Thorin's little brother, and how he had died, on one of her and Thorin's handful of dates. Talk was what she had gotten on those nights. A lot of talk, but very little otherwise. "Hmmm...I suppose that makes sense. Looks like they're having a real good time out there. It's hard to imagine someone so sweet being related to that Took female."

Dwalin took a drag and nodded. "Tell me about it, sugar! He's been helping Thorin write some of his papers in exchange for help with math. Or something. I'm not real sure. Anyway," He watched Thorin bend over, so that his face was on the level with Bilbo's and for a second there...it was almost as if Dwalin was _expecting_ them to kiss. Where the hell had that come from? Now the kid was walking away and Thorin was trotting after him. Dwalin shook his head. Maybe it was time to change cigarette brands, the ol' Lucky Strikes were making him think crazy. It was definitely time to move up to Chesterfields.

Sherilyn took a drag and resumed relaxing against her big sweetie. She really liked the idea of Thorin - handsome, tough, stoic Thorin - and this cute little Bilbo, being friends. There seemed something almost...poetic about it. She closed her eyes and sighed.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italicized quote from "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac, 1957
> 
> I want to apologize to the late Professor J.R.R. Tolkien (not for the first time, that's for DARN sure!). I don't know if he had head canon, or written-on-a-napkin canon, for Togo Goodbody. He was probably a much beloved gentlehobbit, but I was seriously strapped for a name for Evendim's boyfriend. For a bit he was going to be Thranduil...then Legolas...but neither of those were going to work, So, Togo it was! Sorry dude!
> 
> If any of you are interested in obscure, mid-century comic books, check out the [Digital Comic Museum](http://digitalcomicmuseum.com/). You have to register to read the comics, and a lot of the titles are incomplete, but it really is an amazing resource. They also have message boards so you can get your comic geek on with fellow enthusiasts. 10/10...HIGHLY RECOMMEND!
> 
> The movie with the big silver robot named Gort that Bofur goes on about is [_The Day the Earth Stood Still_](https://youtu.be/K6iF5sINVns), 1951. It is probably one of the most iconic Science Fiction films ever made and is as relevant today as it was back then, during the early years of the Cold War. Be kind to yourself and don't watch the remake. I adore Keanu with all my heart, but...no.
> 
> Regarding Pasadena High School...As I've said before, PSH shared a campus with Pasadena City College until the 61/62 school year when it moved to the campus it currently resides in. I have looked at pictures of PCC and have checked it out from the air on Google Maps. I'm assuming the campus is much bigger now than it was then, but for the sake of this fic I'm going with how it is today, with the football field on the south end of the campus, along Del Mar Blvd. I was happy to see that the houses on Del Mar all look pre-1950's, so I could imagine the boys looking at those same homes.
> 
> For those of you who are interested in the history of the LGBT communities, pre-Stonewall, I highly recommend [_A Queer History of the United States_](https://books.google.com/books/about/A_Queer_History_of_the_United_States.html?id=q7XcTv8W_yIC) By Michael Bronksi. It is more of a general overview, but does a good job, I thought, of being an introduction to the role queer Americans have played in shaping our culture. The thing I especially liked about it is that it gives tons of examples of films, books, and names of individuals to look into...sort of like a bibliography with a narrative. Highly readable, chock full of first person experiences. 
> 
> For those of you who love, love, LOVE the era, I have two movies for you. First is [_Dragstrip Riot_](https://youtu.be/Nh9uxDF6jaA), 1958. I especially dug this one primarily for the 1957 Corvettes, really cool race footage, and the baddies come in the form of a biker gang lead by a sort of familiar looking dark haired dude. And then there's the shorter blonde biker he shows concern for. See where I'm going with this? Yeah! In the aforementioned "Queer History...", Bronski states that there was a definite connection between Juvenile Delinquency and Homosexuality (giving _Rebel Without a Cause_ as the prime example), so I don't think my reading of this particular relationship in this film is all that off base. 
> 
> The other film is called [_The Choppers_](https://youtu.be/wo4CZobN8ZY?list=PLY0LMIMRBrM0NIzXXzoxXVViYtBM5vmxM), 1961. It's about 5 boys who ride around in a truck full of chickens and strip broken down cars and sell the parts to a shady junkman until the cops get wise to their shenanigans. Of course I had to go and fall in love with the brainy one in the gang, so cute with his glasses and curly hair...see where I'm going with this? OH YEAH! His name's Snooper and he's friends with the brawny dark haired boy named Ben and...When I say this one made me cry, I am being TOTALLY serious! We're talking FEELS! Both of these movies are barely over an hour long, so they're not a huge time commitment (unless you're me and need to rewatch like WOAH!). Youtube is a veritable treasure trove of public domain movies from the silent era on up and I've lost count of how many 1950's teen films I've watched that I've found there.
> 
> I love to hear from people, whether it's comments about the fic itself or regarding the history and culture of the time period...so, let me know what you're thinking. I've learned a lot from and have been turned on to some really great stuff by commenters. Many thanks to all of you!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/spPo5T4)
> 
> It's the day the boys have been waiting for, ever since deciding they were meant for each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at chapter 14, one I've been thinking about for a LONG TIME!! No new tags...let me think...uhhhhh...no, none that I can think of. Just sit back and enjoy (I hope XD)

**Wednesday, November 12, 1958**

 

 **Exhilarate** (ɪɡˈzɪləreɪt), _v_. 1540. [ad. L. _exhilarat-, _exhilarare_ , f. _ex_ \- (see Ex- pref.) + _hilaris_ ); see HILARITY.]  
**1. _trans_**_. To make cheerful or merry; to cheer, enliven, 

The definition was all wrong, obviously written by someone who had never truly _experienced_ the word before. Was he cheerful? Sure. Merry? Enlivened? Ok, that was getting a bit closer to the truth of what was really going on here but, what Bilbo felt, more than any other adjective, was _alive_. Full-blown, heart-pounding, mind-expanding, every cell, every molecule, every atom...everything that made him _exist_...made him _be_ was wide-awake and ALIVE! Alive with the sting of wind on his face, playing rough in his hair...with the gut-rattling rumble of the motorcycle beneath him...with the heart that beat within the man he held on to...the man who controlled the gas-powered beast....his very tether to life at 35 mph. This...THIS was the definition of _exhilarate_. And he embraced these sensations, making instant memories of this moment in his life that will forever mean something, so he can look back and say, "Right then...THAT was the moment I crossed over the line, away from childhood...THAT was when I entered a whole new world...THAT was when I made my first steps as an adult...as a man. It was right THERE and it was THEN!"

And they roared through the streets of Pasadena, the two of them; past the kids parked in their rods at the Big Boy...past Miller's and the booth by the window...past the bus that took Bilbo home most days. He wondered if people out on the streets saw them, if the people thought anything of them other than that they were just two kids on a bike. Ha! Just two kids...if they only knew! It was like he and Thorin were flipping the world the finger, riding around together like this, canoodling in plain view, and it made him feel every bit a _rebel_. Bilbo tightened his arms around his boyfriend's waist and pressed his nose and mouth to the back of a leather-clad shoulder, the scent of male and diesel filling his nose.

"How ya doin' back there, kiddo?" Thorin asked, shouting over the noise of the bike and afternoon traffic, after pulling up at a red light.

"I'm blissfully ecstatic." Bilbo said, right behind Thorin's ear, his warm breath tickling it, sending tingles skittering down the back of his boy's neck.

"That good, huh?" Thorin laughed, wishing the damn light would turn green. He was rarin' to get his baby home, safe and sound.

"Mmmm hmmm." Bilbo hummed and it was all he could do to keep from nibbling on that oh so tempting ear.

"What was that?" Thorin asked, loving the noises Bilbo made, especially there, in the middle of Pasadena, where anyone could hear them...if only they were paying attention.

Bilbo lifted himself off the seat, barking "Yes!", his cheek brushing against whiskers.

"That's what I like to hear! Now, sit your ass down and hold on, we're almost home."

"I am never letting go."

The light turned green and off they went.

+

The week, so far, had been nothing but grand. Any worries that either Bilbo or Thorin may have had at the beginning of this thing had turned out to be completely unfounded. It took less than no time at all for Bilbo's presence during the lunch hour to be as natural as if he'd been one of the fellas from the start, although Bilbo couldn't help catching one of the curious looks Dwalin would throw his way. Nothing menacing or unsettling...just curious...as if he were a new species of bug and Dwalin just needed another look. Otherwise everything was a-ok! with whipped cream and a cherry on top.

That day had seen the rowdy bunch of boys make an appearance at the noon-time rally in the gym just to watch Dís and the rest of the freshman cheer squad do their thing.

__

We've got the go;

__

_

We’ve got the get;

We’ve got the gang

That’s got the pep.

The go, the get,

The gang, the pep,

Pasadena High School

Yep, yep, yep!

_

The girls worked their pom-poms, a wild eruption of red and white, in a routine they'd been working on for weeks. The boys whooped and hollered louder than anyone there and Dís was quick to catch sight of them, her brother and his friends. When she spotted Bilbo, sitting next to Thorin, clapping and shouting along, a huge smile on his face, she jumped a little higher in her saddle oxfords. Thorin sure was proud of his little sister for getting out there and being all about school spirit in her cheerleader uniform; red circle skirt and white sweater with PHS emblazoned across the front. She had even had mama tie red and white ribbons in her hair that morning to hold the curls back from her face. He couldn't help puffing up, watching her perform with the other girls. He wondered if papa, wherever he was, could see how his little princess was growing up. Then he felt Bilbo's leg press against his. His heart raced and he wondered if papa could see that, too.

Thorin wasn't thinking about papa, though, as he pulled his bike up onto the driveway of his family's home. After killing the engine, he held the heavy Triumph steady, allowing Bilbo to slide off safely before getting off, himself. The boys were quiet as they made their way to the front door and still so after the door closed behind them. 

It had only been a week since Bilbo had last been in this house, but so much had changed since then. He recalled sitting on the couch next to Thorin, Coke bottle in hand, talking about something banal, he was sure...he couldn't quite recall what he had been talking about because, at the time, he had been carefully taking stock of the way Thorin's eyes crinkled in the corners when he smiled and trying not to watch too closely when Thorin put his Coke bottle to his lips. He had _really_ tried not to pay attention to that. But, that had been a whole week ago. Today...well...today things were quite different between them. Looking up at Thorin, he fully expected to be taken in his boyfriend's strong arms and kissed. It had been three days since they had last kissed and Bilbo was dying to make up for lost time. Instead, he got a heavy hand on his shoulder and a "Guess what, kiddo! I got something special, just for you." With a heart pounding hard due to curiosity and nerves, Bilbo followed Thorin into the kitchen. Opening the ice box, Thorin pulled out a bottle.

"Here," he handed it to Bilbo, "I know it's your favorite."

Bilbo looked at the bottle of strawberry soda, speechless for a second.

"You got my...Thank you so much!" He finally gasped, "You didn't have to..."

"What are you taking about?" Thorin opened a drawer to dig out a bottle opener, "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't get my lover boy his favorite soda? I may be new to this whole thing, but I don't want to come off as a slouch or something."

"Are you kidding?" He held the bottle out so Thorin could pop the cap off, "You're the best, you know that?" He took a sip, savoring the familiar flavor of his favorite soda pop. "The best boyfriend who ever lived."

"The best, huh?" Thorin shook his head as he popped the cap off his Coke bottle. "You know you're talking about yourself." And he took a swig before setting it down on the kitchen counter, the fizzy drink bubbling up into the neck, but never spilling over. He took a step...and another...until he towered over Bilbo, their toes almost touching, his breath ruffling big, looping, honey curls. Taking the temporarily forgotten strawberry soda, Thorin placed the bottle on the counter next to his. He looked down into the face looking up at him, wondering if he'd always found it so heart-achingly beautiful, and bumped his hand into another, wanting to be held.

"Hi." He smiled, feeling kind of goofy, trying to lay on the big seduction in the middle of the kitchen. It seemed to be working, though. Bilbo slid his free hand underneath Thorin's jacket and around his waist, as he licked his lips. 

"Thorin?"

"Yeah?" 

"Kiss me."

Thorin could only manage to pull in a breath as he cupped the precious face with both hands. Brushing the tip of his nose against Bilbo's, he teased...delaying the moment...before finally dipping in and, slowly, capturing parted lips with his own. Bilbo pressed forward, not wanting to be completely possessed, and flicked his tongue underneath a whiskered upper lip. Thorin could only surrender, allowing his boy in. He could taste the same sweetness as he had the first time they'd kissed, and it sent blood rushing south, as far away from his brain as it could get. He pulled away, taking a deep breath through his nose, as he tried not to lose it, right there in mama's kitchen with the yellow and white checkered curtains waving in the warm, early fall breeze.

"I like it when you taste like candy." Thorin chuckled, embarrassed that he couldn't think of anything to say that was even remotely more clever, but he just couldn't think right, not with Bilbo's hands sitting on his waist, a little finger or two having slipped beneath the waistband of his jeans.

"Oh...so _that's_ why you got the soda for me, isn't it?" Bilbo kidded, thrilled by his own daring, pinkie fingers snug between a belt and a warm body.

"Maybe I did." Thorin pulled Bilbo's hands from his waist, hoping that would help his conked-out brain. "There's, uh, a little something else I want to give you."

Bilbo looked up into Thorin's eyes, pulling his hands to his chest. "I have something for you, too."

"It's this way," Thorin led Bilbo, by the hand, out of the kitchen and down the hall to the closed door of his bedroom. He opened it. "Come on in." 

Bilbo stepped in and was immediately hit by the realization that he stood in another boy's bedroom, the boy he loved, and they were all alone in the house. Feeling his nerves start to kick it up, he fumbled with the strap of his school bag, dragging it over his head.

"Here," Thorin took the bag from Bilbo and set it on the chair in front of his desk. "So, whadda ya think of my kingdom? I know it ain't much but..."

"It's wonderful." Bilbo said, delighted, as his eyes drifted around the room. It wasn't big, but it was tidy and homey, the furniture older and mismatched, the bed made, pillows plumped. A desk sat under blue and yellow plaid curtains that covered the window. There was also a bookcase. Books, including a full set of encyclopedias, shared space with a number of tin cars and an old, one-eyed teddy bear. On top sat a large world globe.

"I wouldn't say that," Thorin took off his leather jacket and hung on the back of the chair. "It probably looks pretty beat compared to what you're used to."

"Don't say that." Bilbo took off his olive tweed jacket and wrapped it around Thorin's. "This is yours...all of this...this is where you live. I love it, Thorin. I love it because it's a part of you. So enough..." There were pictures, framed pictures, sitting on top of the dresser next to the closet door, and Bilbo lost all concentration on what he was saying and went to them. 

There were four frames. Four pictures. The largest was of a portrait of a smiling, handsome young man, who might've been Thorin in a different space in time. There was also a wedding photo, the same handsome man standing arm-in-arm with a pretty, curly-haired bride who bore a faint resemblance to Dís. The third picture was of a group of boys, scouts by the looks of the uniforms, the ever-present not-Thorin standing beside them, his smile broadcasting pride in his pack. And the last...the last showed the man sitting in the bleachers of a sports stadium, his arms around two little boys. One was dark, just like him, but the other was fair, blonde curls sticking out from under a crooked baseball cap. This is the picture Bilbo picked up. He heard a desk drawer open and close before feeling Thorin come up, behind him, the weighty presence laying over his shoulders like a warm blanket.

"Is this you?" He asked, pointing to the dark haired boy who was smiling big for the camera, showing where his baby teeth used to be. He couldn't've been older than 10.

"Yeah, that's me." Thorin brushed his cheek against Bilbo's hair. "Snot-nosed little brat."

"And this is your dad." Bilbo pressed back against Thorin.

"Yeah," Thorin took a good look at the man, once-upon-a-time god of his world. And he missed him. "That's pop. He loved baseball...was always taking us to the ball game. He would've been over the moon to know his Dodgers were in L.A. now." He kissed Bilbo on the head.

"He took you and Frerin. This," Bilbo pointed at the blonde boy who looked like he could barely sit still for the camera, "this has to be Frerin."

Thorin was quiet as he looked into the face of the little brother he had adored and had expected to watch over and protect his whole life. And for a time beyond counting he wondered if his being in the car that day would've made any difference...if he hadn't been sick, then perhaps papa and Frerry would still be alive. "Yes. That's my brother."

Bilbo heard the lump in Thorin's throat. He set the picture back, carefully, in its spot and next pointed at the wedding picture. "Your parents look so happy."

"Just a couple of crazy kids getting hitched."

Bilbo looked at them, the newly named husband and wife, who thought they had their entire lives, together, laid out before them. "Your father was a very handsome man. I can understand why your mom never remarried."

"She's always told people he was the love of her life. No one could ever take his place. Not for her or for Dís and I."

"It must be comforting, for her," Bilbo turned until he faced Thorin, "to see him living on in you." And he raised his face to a kiss.

"I...uhhh...I got...um...I got something," Thorin showed Bilbo his fist, fingers closed around something wrapped in a tissue from the box underneath his bed. "I want to give this to you." Fingers pulled away, and he unwrapped the tissue, exposing a small bronze pin shaped something like a fleur de lis. For a heart-stopping second, he felt his offering not good enough, not worthy of the boy he was about to pin it to, but he had nothing else. He took a deep breath and tried to let go of the fear. "Bilbo, I know I already asked you this question...I know your answer...but," He held the pin out, "Will you be my boyfriend?"

"Yes" Bilbo whispered before biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he took the pin from Thorin's hand. He couldn't stop the tears, first one, then another, that fell from his eyes. He looked at it, fuzzy from the water, but he could make out the eagle, its wings spread. He imagined, if he looked closer at the picture of the scout troop on the dresser, he'd see the same little dark-haired boy who went to ball games with his dad.

"It's my Boy Scout pin. My dad...he was a troop leader, so Frerin and I had to do all of that _Be Prepared_ stuff. I thought about what to give you really hard, dug through everything I have..."

"I love this." Bilbo held the pin carefully between his fingers as if it were a priceless heirloom made of spun glass. He held it out. "Will you pin it to me?"

Thorin took the pin. "Sure, where do you want it?"

Bilbo pointed to his chest, a spot on his dark red sweater vest, right above his left breast. "Right here. Please."

Thorin undid the clasp on the pin, more difficult now than when he was a kid, his fingers having grown up with the rest of him. Then he slid one beneath the body-warmed woolen fabric. "I'll try not to stick you."

"Don't worry, I trust you." Bilbo watched him carefully slide the pin in and through, locking it in place. A tear plunked on Thorin's hand.

"Come on, baby, don't cry." He reached for the back pocket of his jeans but came away empty-handed. "Sorry, I must've left my rag at the shop."

"That's ok," Bilbo sniffled as he smiled, "I remembered my handkerchief, it's in my jacket pocket." 

"Which one?"

"The right one."

Thorin went to the chair where his and Bilbo's jackets hung, one around the other, and he dipped his hand into the right-hand pocket, feeling the privilege that comes with another's love and trust. The handkerchief was there, the monogrammed "BPB" in emerald green silk threads on a white cotton background. He took it back to Bilbo who stood waiting, glasses in hand.

"Thank you." He wiped his tears away. "I'm sorry, I told myself I wasn't going to go all soggy like that."

"I don't mind it...I just don't like seeing you sad." 

"But, I'm not sad." Bilbo found a dry spot on his hanky and rubbed at the lenses of his glasses, "I just never ever thought that something like this would ever happen to me. I always expected that I would be alone the last two years of high school, you know? Because...I know what I am. I would be the one watching everyone else enjoy having the time of their lives while I waited for college, hoping that maybe I might run into someone there who might like me for me." He put his glasses back on before laying his hand on Thorin's chest. "I never, in a million years, would've expected you."

Thorin had no words for Bilbo. All he could grasp at were his emotions, racing around inside himself in a riot of colors and sounds and feelings. So, instead of saying anything, he wrapped his arms around his boy and held him, tightly, to himself, kissing his head...kissing his face...until lips claimed his and they kissed, the passion inside them building with each and every touch. Thorin tightened his arms around his baby and lifted him up, off his feet, penny loafers dangling in mid-air. Kisses turned into giggles.

"I love you, Bilbo. It's the truth!" Thorin lowered him to the floor. "Balin asked me if I was just foolin' around with you, and I swore to him I wasn't and I swear it to you now! I'm not foolin' with you. And I never will. With god as my witness, baby, I will never hurt you."

"I know...I know I know I know," Bilbo repeated, his face buried in Thorin's chest, the heart within keeping a steady, heavy rhythm. With his fingers, he smoothed the white cotton fabric of Thorin's button down, over the thump-and-bump, and kissed it, wishing he could press his own throbbing heart to it. "I know you, Thorin Durin. I trust you with my heart and soul and that's why..." He went to work on the clasp of the chain he wore under the collar of his shirt. Once it was free, he tugged on it and out popped an intricately molded, man's gold ring. "That's why I want to give you this."

"What are you doing?" Thorin asked, knowing full well but...it couldn't be, the gesture was just too great.

Bilbo held the chain out before him, the ring swaying to and fro. He chuckled, "I'm asking you to be my boyfriend, silly. It goes both ways, right?'

"Of course it does, but," Thorin went to touch the ring, but found he couldn't, "I can't take that." 

Bilbo lowered his hands, not understanding. "Why not? It's one of the most precious things I own."

"Exactly! That's why. It was your dad's...I can't...I have no right to wear that."

"Of course you do, I'm giving it to you. I _want_ you to wear it. I trust you, Thorin, I know you'll keep it safe for me."

Thorin looked from the ring, the college ring that had once belonged to Bungo Baggins, a man he had never known, to the son who always wore it on a chain under his shirt in order to stay close to the father he'd lost. He looked into those green eyes, brimming with hope, and nodded. "I would be honored to wear your father's ring and...Bilbo...I will...I'm all yours."

Bilbo quickly wrapped the chain around Thorin's neck, securing the clasp. And then it was all done, what they had set out to do that afternoon. They both bore proof that their love was alive and genuine, and they could take that proof out into the world...a silent shout...proud but hidden in plain sight from those who would condemn them. Standing in the middle of the room, with the sounds of the neighborhood kids playing, floating in through the windows on a warm breeze, they looked at each other, not exactly sure of what their next steps should be. Thorin took the hand pressed to his chest and, infused with a double dose of bravery, he led Bilbo to his bed.  
Sitting himself down on the neatly made, navy blue coverlet, Thorin now looked up at his boy, which was nice, for a change, and pulled him a step...two steps...closer. 

"Is this ok?" He asked, his nerves pinging with electric snaps under his skin. 

"Yes, I like this," Bilbo held up their clasped hands and let their fingers, Thorin's so much longer and wider than his, become entwined. Bending down, he kissed him on the mouth, whiskers tickling, and smiled. "I like this a lot." And then he kissed him on his cheeks and his forehead and on the tip of his nose, their eyes open, connected, just as their hands were. But then, Bilbo stood up and let go. He sat on the bed, next to Thorin, and freed himself of his glasses and shoes, before pushing himself back, until his back touched the wall. He pulled up his feet, wrapping his arms around his shins, and propped his chin on his knees.

Thorin grasped the ring that lay on his chest and turned to look. Bilbo was smiling at him from behind his drawn up knees, cheeks bright red, and he realized this was the first time he'd ever seen the boy without his shoes on. He reached out and tapped on the toes in the white socks, watching them curl up.

"This little piggy..." He pinched a big toe, making Bilbo giggle. And that was all it took. Quickly, he pulled off his boots and laid himself down, his head coming to a rest on a pillow, his hands folded on his chest, his eyes closed. Movement and the squeak of bed springs let him know that Bilbo was laying down beside him, and he soon sensed a body next to him, leaning over him, watching but not touching. He opened his eyes. "Hey." He whispered.

"Hay is for horses." Bilbo kidded, and he hid his face in Thorin's chest, suddenly embarrassed by his lack of an sort of cool at such an important moment as this, his first time on a bed with a boy, but a hand was on his head, fingers in his hair, and he peeked a look. Thorin was looking down at him from under black lashes. 

"Here," Thorin tapped a finger against his lips. Bilbo got the message, planting a wet one before being rolled over, coming to a rest on his side. Thorin's face was only inches away from his own, a heavy hand rested on his waist. He mapped the broadness of Thorin's shoulder. Neither of them said a word. But, then, the song began. First, there was only the squeaking of the bed, the rhythm that begins so many songs when the words are not yet known. But the song grew. Soon there was an accompanying rhythm, the slick and slide of lips, tongues, and teeth, which was inspiration for the low and high tones that seemed to come from the very depths of their souls. Hands joined in with a primal dance, one in celebration of discovery. They explored hard and soft terrains, each becoming familiar with a body that tantalized with its differences from their own, as well as the similarities. 

Bilbo had lost himself, completely, in the boy on the bed. He felt as if he were now only a receptor of everything Thorin was; what he smelled like, felt like, sounded like, tasted like and he wondered, albeit briefly, if Thorin was feeling the same about him. But this was really no time for inner-dialogue. No, the right-here-right-now was happening and it was more wonderful than wonderful! He was well aware that a hand was on his waist, on his hips, now venturing on uncharted territory, farther south than either of them had gone. And when that hand squeezed the full roundness of the ass his mother had always told him was 100% Baggins, he couldn't help the eek of surprised pleasure that escaped. Thorin squeezed again, pleased with himself and his new discovery, and he chuckled against Bilbo's mouth.

But then, something happened. 

Bilbo felt the hand that had been fondling him pull him closer, up against solid rock, and suddenly, there was that delicious burn again, the one he had felt Saturday night in the backseat of the car, that mind-spinning heat and grind that could only lead to one thing and he wasn't ready... Sucking air, sharply, into his lungs, he froze, hands pressed flat against Thorin's chest. He carefully maneuvered his hips back and away. Thorin was already sitting up, moving away from him, apologizing.

"Oh god, baby, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to...I got carried away..."

"No...don't...please don't apologize." Bilbo tugged on Thorin's shirt sleeve, wanting him back down on the bed, needing a wall between him and the faces, watching, from the top of the dresser. "You didn't...it wasn't you, it was me. I just...I got scared." 

Thorin carefully laid himself back down, relieved when Bilbo grabbed his hand and kissed it. "I didn't want to scare you."

"No no no...I know you didn't. I love you so much, it's...I didn't want _that_ to happen. Which is stupid, I know, since it already did." Bilbo felt his cheeks flame red hot. Did he sound like a complete idiot, or what? He had already...he looked down at the dark blue of the bed cover, humiliated by his own immaturity.

"Oh!" Thorin hated himself a little bit for chuckling. "Baby, don't...come on. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking...not with my brain, at least. Come on," Tenderly, he brushed floppy curls away from Bilbo's face. He could feel the heat radiating of off him. "It's going to be okay."

Bilbo looked up from the bed, wishing his faulty eyes would focus, just this one time, on the beautiful face smiling at him. He gave Thorin a quick *pop* of a kiss. "Thank you. This is going to sound so silly to you, but I don't..." He shook his head, mad at himself. "I should've talked to you about this sooner."

"What? What is it?"

Bilbo knew the words that were about to come out of his mouth made up some of the most ridiculous, childish nonsense but... "I want to take things slowly. I want to...savor...each new experience with you, so I can remember them. I know I already..." He couldn't say another word.

"Already what?" Thorin asked through his crooked grin. He knew damn well what.

Now Bilbo was relieved the other boy was a blur. "I came." He whispered.

Thorin's smile fell. This wasn't the time for jokes and kids. He swallowed up Bilbo's hand inside one of his own. "Forget about Saturday night. I mean, don't forget about it! It was...it was the _greatest_ , but that was then. Call it our amateur hour, huh? This is now. So, what's important now is that we take it slow, is that right?"

"Yes. I know it's silly..."

"Will you stop it with the silly, already?" 

"I know I owe you one..."

"Owe me one what?"

Now Bilbo wished the bed would swallow him whole. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn't he just say it? He had always been honest with himself, never mincing words or hiding from the truth, so why was he choking up on Thorin? Settling his fuzzy gaze at the spot beneath Thorin's chin he quietly blurted. "I owe you an orgasm." God, why did it have to sound so much stupider out loud than in his head?

Thorin couldn't help getting ticked off. Is this really what Bilbo thought was expected of him? That, because he'd shot his wad the other night, he thought Thorin felt he had the same coming to him? Expected it? He let out a loud, sad sigh. "What is this? Are we keeping score now?"

Bilbo deflated, feeling like an even greater fool. "No. Of course not."

Rolling over, onto his back, Thorin huffed as he stared at the ceiling. "If you think I haven't been jerking myself off every night, thinking about you, then you got a real surprise coming."

The image Thorin's confession planted in Bilbo's mind brought to life a flame inside him and it burned, as if his core had turned to molten lava. "Every night?" 

"Every night." Thorin patted the bed in the tight space between them. "Right here."

Bilbo rolled over onto his back, his entire body tingling at the thought that the boy next to him _desired_ him like that, enough to think about him while touching himself. He smiled. "You know, I do that, too. And think of you."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin's head swam at the idea. "You think about me? While you're..." There was no mistaking the hand gesture he made.

Bilbo covered his mouth as he snorted out a laugh. "Yes."

"You're right handed, right?"

Lifting his right hand from where it was resting on his stomach, Bilbo presented it to Thorin who took it in his left. They looked at one another and squeezed. "Hell of a grip, little man." Thorin said with as straight a face as he could muster but it didn't last and they laughed, good and long, until, having rolled over to face each other they smothered their laughter with kisses...good and long. 

Coming up for breath, Thorin wiped saliva off Bilbo's chin with his thumb and asked, "What's the date?"

"Today?" Bilbo slipped his finger through the ring dangling from Thorin's neck. "Today is Wednesday..."

"Yeah, I know that part."

"November...twelfth. It's the twelfth." Bilbo gave a definitive nod.

Thorin laid his head on the pillow next to his boyfriend's. "Only three days 'til homecoming."

With a groan, Bilbo laid his forearm across his eyes. "Don't remind me."

"I overheard Dís talking to moms about the dance last night. Sounds like she got some fella from our JCC to take her. Funny that all-of-a-sudden she's gung-ho to go."

"She does? Oh...I am so glad she's got a date! Is he a nice boy?"

"Yeah, he's alright. He's a freshman. Balls probably haven't dropped yet. That's best...guy even _thinks_ about laying a hand on my sister..." 

"Ever the protective older brother..."

"You're damn right."

"I don't doubt Dís can take care of herself, but, if you want, I can keep an eye on her. It'll be nice to see a friendly face."

"Won't you be busy, fetching and toting for the highness?"

"Not on your life, bub."

"Yeah, that'd be great." Bilbo's offer did take a weight off Thorin's back regarding his sister. With Dwalin there, as well, the girl should be a-ok without her big brother watching over her. "I don't think little girl will mind if you say _hi_."

Bilbo smiled softly, his focus having shifted from talk of homecoming to Thorin's throat and the black hairs that showed above an open collar, teasing him with the knowledge that there were more, hidden beneath the shirt. Pulling the collar back, he uncovered the last, yellow remains of the hickey he'd given him. He couldn't help touching his handiwork.

"Do you want one?" 

Did he ever! Thorin's question stoked the fires, deep in Bilbo's belly, filling him so full of want that he was afraid that any movement causing pressure, below the waist, would set him off. He managed to stay quiet, and hold himself still, until he could calm down and the sensible part of his brain could operate unhindered. He eventually shook his head. "I do, sweetheart, but not today. Homecoming." 

"Gotcha." Thorin was disappointed, but he understood why it was best to wait. Sucking on Bilbo's neck would be another one of those new experiences for them to _savor_ , together.

Remembering the question Thorin asked earlier, Bilbo stated that, "Today is November twelfth, in the year of our lord, nineteen-hundred and fifty-eight...

"A day that will live in infamy." 

"Oh, but it will." 

"Yeah? You think so?"

"Of course. It's the day when I first laid on a bed with you." 

"So it is. That sure is one for the calendar."

"It will be! I'm going to write about it tonight, in my journal."

"You write about me?" Thorin's ego puffed up, proud as a peacock on full display. How about that! Already he was being immortalized, ink on paper, in the pages of his darling boy's journal. He was dying to know what Bilbo had said about him.

"Of course I do." Bilbo touched Thorin's whiskered jaw. "I always have."

"Ever since?" 

Bilbo kissed him before answering. "Ever since the day we met. You know I've loved you all this time."

"I do." Thorin felt a small twinge of odd jealousy. Why was it that Bilbo had already been clued in to the whole liking-boys-over-girls thing? And why had it taken so long for him to catch on? That sure would have saved him from a few disappointing dates over the last couple of years. And disappointing really nice girls like Sherilyn. He really had wanted that relationship to work out...thought she was going to be the one, but...

All of a sudden, Bilbo sat bolt upright. "Oh geez!"

"What? What is it?" Thorin froze, wondering if Bilbo had heard a car in the driveway or keys in the door, which would mean mama had come home early. He strained his ears and listened, but he heard nothing.

Bilbo got to his knees and put his hands on Thorin's shoulders, shaking him gently, in mock desperation. "We forgot our sodas in the kitchen!"

Thorin laughed. "You're right, we did. You hungry?"

Bilbo placed a hand on his stomach, as if he were in communication with it. He nodded. "I am, actually."

Thorin sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and Bilbo was quick to snuggle up behind him, throwing his arms around his neck. This put a big ass grin on Thorin's face. "Let's make some sandwiches, kiddo. Hold on tight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww...now the boys are all good and official! <3<3<3
> 
> The cheer I have Dís and her squad performing at the rally I snagged from a woman's memories of being a cheerleader in the mid-west during the forties (I just changed out the name of her school for Pasadena). Unfortunately I didn't bookmark the site so I'm unable to link to it (my college history profs would be so disappointed in me right now!), but I'm going to keep looking and as soon as I find it I'll add it.
> 
> When looking up to see if Jews were welcome in the Boy Scouts mid-century (since I know absolutely practically nothing about the organization), I was pleased to see that yes, indeed, Jews were (and still are) very much involved with scouting and there have been many troops sponsored by Jewish organizations and congregations, around the country. I was especially intrigued by [articles I found](http://www.jewishjournal.com/los_angeles/article/opposition_continues_despite_new_boy_scout_policy), discussing the stance some Jewish troops, particularly those sponsored by Reform Synagogues, took in opposition to the BSA's ban on gay scouts and leaders and the Supreme Court's 2000 ruling, upholding that ban. Many of these synagogues ended their sponsoring of these troops and the number of Jewish troops has dwindled ever since. On July 27, 2015, [the BSA reversed their position by allowing gay adults to be scout leaders](http://www.cnn.com/2015/07/27/us/boy-scouts-gay-leaders-feat/) (however, if a troop is sponsored by a religious organization that looks unfavorably on homosexuality, they are still allowed to discriminate). 
> 
> In the "AMAZING THINGS I'VE COME ACROSS OHMYGOSH YOU GUYS LOOK!" department:  
> Two books have come into my life, recently, that are just about everything I could've ever asked for. The first is the 1948 novel, _The City and the Pillar_ written by my new fave, [Mr. Gore Vidal](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gore_Vidal). Written when Vidal was 23 years old, it is a dispassionate look at the lives of gay men in the years before and during World War II. It is also credited as the first novel where its gay character doesn't die. It is an incredibly honest exploration of what it was like to be a gay man at that time, and Mr. Vidal, who had already started to make a name for himself as a writer, was blacklisted for several years following its publication. I HIGHLY recommend it to anyone who reads/writes fics with gay male themes. While I love reading, and have written, fics where a couple's homosexuality doesn't have any negative ramifications, I think it's important to have a good understanding of what real life queer men and women have experienced, especially during the twentieth century when the word homosexual was officially related to others such as degeneracy, deviancy, and criminality. As I always say, you can't understand the here-and-now until you know about the used-to-be. If you do pick it up, be prepared to gross sob like WOAH! Not a happy story (but so GOOD!!).
> 
> The other book I'm all YAHOO!!! about is called [Pulp Friction: Uncovering the Golden Age of Gay Male Pulps](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/300436.Pulp_Friction) by Michael Bronski (who also wrote that queer history of the U.S. I mentioned a couple of chapters ago). When I started writing Acorn Lane, one of my ideas was to model it after the pulp novels of the fifties and sixties...those cheap paperbacks with the luridly illustrated covers that tell stories chock full of sexed-up juvenile delinquents and men and women on the wrong side of society. Unfortunately, a lot of these novels have been lost to time and what is still with us is considered collectible and can cost an awful lot of money. What this book provides, are excerpts from some of the gay novels of the time, which were more prevalent than I think a lot of us today would imagine them to be. Bronski explains in his introduction that in the process of putting the book together, he fell in love with these mostly-forgotten looks at a past that was the reality for gay men in the decades before Stonewall, and it's obvious. This is another one I recommend if you're looking for a better understanding of queer culture during those paranoid, post-war years.
> 
> Again, I can't thank everyone enough for their support and the kind words I've received regarding this fic. The writing of it has opened up new worlds for me to explore and I'm thrilled that I get to share what I'm learning with you through it. I hope the weather where you are has been as springtime awesome as it's been, here in the Pacific Northwest. <3<3<3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/NvQVbuq)
> 
> _Dwalin whirled around, cutting Thorin off, "Don't play stupid with me, Thorin, I know you! Or, at least, I thought I did."_
> 
> _Thorin forced himself to look Dwalin in the eye, and hated himself for what he saw there. "You..." his voice cracked. He dropped his eyes to his booted feet, resting on the bench of the picnic table. "You know me."_
> 
> _"Do I?" Dwalin asked, getting angrier with every second. "I just want you to answer the question. And don't lie to me...you fucking lie to me, Thorin, and I **PROMISE** you, we are done."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is...one I know some of you have been waiting for. Again, it seems that those moments I've been thinking about for so long are always the hardest to actually get down in words. I hope I did this one justice.
> 
> As for tags...I'm adding "coming out" and "underage drinking" which, I realize, I should've added to Thorin's talk with Balin in chapter 10. DUH!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

**Thursday, November 13, 1958 - Pasadena High - Lunch Hour**

Dwalin lifted the top layer of bread on his sandwich and sighed. Normally, the sandwiches his mom made him for lunch were good. Real good. And today she'd packed him one of his favorites; turkey breast, sliced thin, with a slice of american cheese and a generous spread of Miracle Whip on Wonder Bread. It was all there, all the vitamins and minerals a growing boy needed. "So why," he wondered, "does it taste as dry as the Mojave at high noon?"

The empty spot next to him on the bleacher bench was the only answer.

Sherilyn was gone. Well, not gone as in _gone_ , but absent...not there...somewhere else. That somewhere else, Dwalin knew, was the picnic table outside the science building, under the big tree, where Miss Horne and her friends gathered before and after school and during lunch. At least that had been the deal until she had hooked her wagon to a certain schmo. Aww...things sure had been goin' great ever since the prettiest girl at Pasadena High had accepted Dwalin's offer to go steady, as well as the Smokey the Bear Fan Club pin he'd had since he was a kid. Real great. Or, at least it had been, up until that morning, before class, when she had informed him that she needed to spend lunch with her girlfriends.

'I need to reconnect. Before Homecoming. You understand, don't you Dwalie?"

Dwalin had shoved his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, unable to help the pout that pulled the corners of his mouth down into a frown. "Yeah, baby, sure. I get it."

Sherilyn looked up at her boyfriend's gloomy puss. He was her roughie-toughie cutie, even when he was sulking. "I'll catch you after school, won't I?

Nodding, Dwalin met eyes, deep and dark, shiny black. A girl could hypnotize a guy with eyes like that, make him do just about anything. "Yeah you will." He mumbled, wondering why they even had to bother with school anymore. A man of his age had more important things to deal with. A future to plan.

Sherilyn sunk pearly whites into her bottom lip, corvette red, as she reached up, tickling Dwalin below his chewed up right ear. "Well, then, can a girl get a little sugar to hold her over?"

Dwalin giggled. Yeah, you heard me right...he _giggled_! A smile tugged at the side of his mouth. "Yeah. Okay."

Steadying herself with a hand on her guy's shoulder, Sherilyn rose up off her kitten heels and gave him a kiss that would keep his brains scrambled until at least third period. After watching her sashay away, Dwalin turned to his best friend, from whom he'd expected, at the very least, a cat-call or wolf-whistle or something equally obnoxious, spurred on by the blatant display of public affection. Instead, he found Thorin leaning against a tree...reading a book? Of all the...

"Got a test?" He asked.

Thorin shook his head, "Nah...just wanted to finish this chapter before class. You seemed to be busy, so I decided to keep myself otherwise occupied."

Dwalin nodded his head slowly, wondering what had gotten into his friend. Thorin was no slouch when it came to school and assignments, but a bookworm he just wasn't. "Yeah, I suppose you should get your reading in while you're a single man. I tell ya...get yourself one of those," Dwalin hitched his thumb back in the direction Sherilyn had gone, "and there's just not enough hours in the day."

Thorin gave Dwalin an annoyingly enigmatic smile. "That's okay." He set a bookmark in place and closed the book. "I think I'll wait."

"And why would a healthy American boy do a thing like that?" Dwalin kidded, bumping against Thorin's arm, knocking him a step sideways.

"I got other things going on." Thorin said, kind of wishing Dwalin would drop the subject.

"Oh yeah? It's a steady date with Rosie Palm and her five sisters you got goin' on, I'm guessin'!"

Thorin laughed and bumped back, twice as hard as he had gotten. "I got your Rosie Palm right here!" He shook his fist in his friend's face.

"MR. DURIN! MR. FUNDINSON! DO WE HAVE A PROBLEM, GENTLEMEN?!"

Dwalin and Thorin stopped horsin' around and turned toward the sound of authority. It was Principal Parker, quickly walking their way. 

"No sir," They said, in unison. Neither boy was in the mood to deal with the dour faced school administrator. Luckily, Parker had more on his plate that morning than cracking skulls for schoolyard shenanigans, and let the boys go off to their first period classes with nothing more than a warning. Dwalin had counted himself lucky and got through his classes just fine, but then lunch time had come around and there he was, sitting on the bleachers, a gloomy gus with a disappointing sandwich, listening to his friends jabber on; on one side Nori was hootin' over a perfume-scented note Bofur had received from Ellen Slater and, on the other, Bilbo and Thorin were talking about some fellas he'd never heard of. Some guy named Dean Moriarty and another poor schmuck with the unfortunate name of Sal Paradise... 

"I dunno," Thorin shook his head, "Dean seems like he'd be a riot...always ready for kicks...but...you know...it's like...too much of a good thing. He's always getting on people's bad side. Well, except for Sal's."

"That's cuz he's all-out living!" Bilbo ejected, trying not to spew deviled ham everywhere. "Dean does what Dean wants, _when_ he wants. He's a man with no filter...no societal reigns. He's walking, talking, 100% pure _id_!"

Thorin froze, a potato chip an inch from his mouth. "Id? What the hell's an id?"

"You've heard of Sigmund Freud?"

"Yeah, wasn't he one of those head shrinkers?"

"Mmm hmm," Bilbo hummed, trying not to choke while he chewed, "He had a theory that the _id_ is the part of a person's psyche that acts on pure impulse...wants nothing but pleasure."

After this, Dwalin couldn't hear what Thorin said. And that was because his friend was whispering in Bilbo's ear and from where Dwalin sat, he could make out a...an... _impish_ grin on Thorin's face. And g-damn! If that wasn't a first! He also noticed the arm that Thorin stretched out behind Bilbo, pressed up against the boy's back. And Bilbo...well...he didn't budge, as if being that close to Thorin was the most natural thing in the world. That is, until Bilbo pulled back a little, _shushing_ Thorin in a way that was more playful than scolding. 

It was right then that Thorin noticed Dwalin, watching them.

"Hey," he quickly sat up, batting Bilbo on the arm with the back of his hand, "What word did old Sigmund have for the part of a fella's psyche that makes him go all sideways when his girl's away?" 

"Say," Bilbo turned to face Dwalin, "where is Sherilyn?"

"Didn't you hear, Billy?" Nori butted in. "The love potion he slipped her finally wore off. She took one look at his ugly mug and scrammed!"

That was the toothpick that finally put the proverbial camel in traction! Dwalin threw down his sandwich...Nori was already on his feet, ready to run...when Bilbo spoke up...

"You shouldn't say things like that about Dwalin, Nori! Sherilyn has to know how lucky she is to have him for a beau. The lady obviously recognizes quality when she sees it."

The lust for Nori's blood evaporated and blew away, leaving Dwalin to sink back down onto the bench, looking at the kid who had just kind of moved in, this past week, and set up residence in their little band of life-long friends. Bilbo turned, as if the weight of Dwalin's stare was resting on his shoulder and, for a couple of seconds there, the two young men regarded one another, openly, for the first time. Dwalin looked right into Bilbo's eyes, looking for the answer to the question that lay on the tip of his tongue. "Who _are_ you?" He wanted to ask. And, as if he knew unspoken words were hanging in the air, Bilbo smiled. "I'm not the one to ask," that smile seemed to say and Dwalin found himself nodding, understanding. He smiled and, leaning over, patted Bilbo on the shoulder. "Thanks." He said.

"You know what, Bilbo? You're an alright joe." Bofur piped up, "But then, Thorin wouldn't be friends with just any-old-body, now, would he?"

A blushing Bilbo thanked Bofur for the kind words, while Dwalin watched Thorin watch Bilbo. Mentally, Dwalin ran through his lexicon...

 _like, admire, cherish, treasure, adore, idolize, worship, love_...

 **Love**. That was it! That was how Thorin was looking at Bilbo and it was right then, at that moment in time, on a November afternoon with just the slightest hint of chill in the air, that Dwalin Fundinson understood that Thorin Durin, his oldest, closest friend, more a brother to him than his own blood brother, was in love with the little blonde twerp from San Francisco. He knew this, without a shadow of a doubt, as crazy as it sounded, because he knew what love looked like! Ever since Sherilyn had agreed to be his girl, he had seen love written large as life on his own face, more times than he could count.

Thorin was most definitely in love.

++++++++

**The Overlook, 7:30 p.m.**

Dwalin's main problem was that he didn't know where to start. Should he start by asking Thorin about the folded piece of paper he saw Bilbo hand him after school? Or perhaps he should bring up the ring Thorin thought he had kept hidden beneath the collar of his shirt. Or, maybe, he should just cut to the chase and bring up the look that appeared on Thorin's face whenever the kid was around...or the way Bilbo had wrapped his arms around Thorin's waist as they had rode off together the previous day. Well, wherever it was he chose to begin, Dwalin knew he ran a risk. If he called it as he saw it, and he was wrong, there would be a fight. Hell, he'd be more than happy to take the black eye Thorin would most likely dish out if he was wrong. But, if he was right, and Thorin _lied_ to him...and he would know one of Thorin's lies because, while they were few and far between, they were always obvious as hell...

If Thorin lied to him, well, that's what scared him the most.

Swallowing hard on the last bite of his burger, Dwalin looked out at Pasadena, all lit up, down below from where he and Thorin sat; on a picnic table, up at the overlook. The city looked real pretty from way up high. He took a swig on his Lucky Lager and softly sighed.

"I'm getting the picture there's something you want to say." Thorin mumbled, staring at the half-eaten cheeseburger in his hand. He'd eagerly agreed to Dwalin's offer of burgers and beer after work, looking forward to some time alone with his best friend. They really hadn't seen a lot of one another, just the two of them, since school started. And now with Sherilyn in the picture, almost full-time, a fella could have a hard time keeping up with everything.

Every little thing.

Dwalin, with beer bottle in hand, slid from his seat on top of the picnic table. "You know," he chuckled, humorlessly, "That's kind of funny, because what I want to say is, 'what do _you_ have to say?'" 

Thorin had begun to go in for a bite, but Dwalin's words stopped him. He ended up trading his burger for his beer. He took a swig and watched Dwalin walk towards the cliff's edge. "What do I have to say about what?"

Dwalin's heart fell a notch as he looked out at the lights. "You tell me."

"Is this a game?" Thorin asked, stalling, his heart pounding, adrenalin beginning to surge.

"Who's Bilbo?" Dwalin asked, matter-of-factly. This most definitely wasn't a game.

Thorin seemed to go hot and cold at the same time. He forced a chuckle, "What do you mean? You know who he is. Sometimes, Dwal, I think..." 

Dwalin whirled around, cutting Thorin off, "Don't play stupid with me, Thorin, I know you! Or, at least, I thought I did." 

Thorin forced himself to look Dwalin in the eye, and hated himself for what he saw there. "You..." his voice cracked. He dropped his eyes to his booted feet, resting on the bench of the picnic table. "You know me."

"Do I?" Dwalin asked, getting angrier with every second. "I just want you to answer the question. And don't lie to me...you fucking lie to me, Thorin, and I **PROMISE** you, we are done."

Thorin never knew a threat could scare him nearly as much as Dwalin's threat terrified him. "Dwalin, I..." How the hell was he going to say this? "Look, man, I wanted to tell you but..."

"Tell me what?" Dwalin was near to shouting, his patience nearly gone. "Tell me about you and Bilbo? Tell me about the way you two look at each other? Talk to each other? I'm no genius, but dammit, Thorin, I'm not as blind and stupid as you must think I am!"

Thorin went so cold he could no longer feel his limbs and his face was numb. "I don't think...Dwalin..." The fear that was eating him up would only allow him to shake his head.

"What's going on?! Are you and he...?"

"Shit, Dwalin! I'm _trying_ to tell you!"

"What?! Trying to tell me what?!"

Thorin pushed himself off the picnic table and marched right up to Dwalin, who stood his ground, ready for whatever blows may come. "I love him!" Thorin yelled in his face. "And he loves me!"

Dwalin staggered back a step, the impact of Thorin's confession landing like a physical blow. Well...damn! He had been right, after all! His anger dissipated, only to be replaced with something that felt heavy and sad....his entire body sagged under the weight. "That's what I thought." He said and turned away.

Thorin watched Dwalin walk away from him and it felt like an iron fist was squeezing, tight, inside his rib cage. He fought against tears. "I swear on my father's grave, Dwalin, I was going to tell you."

Dwalin stopped. He could hear the fear in Thorin's voice and he hated it...hated being the cause of it. He took a deep breath and turned around. "You were, huh? How long have the two of you...?"

"Just since last Saturday night." The tightness in Thorin's chest began to relax and he realized he wanted the questions to keep coming. He wanted to talk.

"And how long have you known you're a queer?" Dwalin asked, his eyes boring straight into Thorin's.

"Last Saturday night." Thorin didn't bat an eye.

"Bullshit." Dwalin spat back, bitterly.

"No, Dwal, it's true! I swear I didn't know! You can ask Bilbo! He'll be the first to tell you I had no idea what I was doing!"

"But you know now?"

"I guess. I mean, no, I don't. I really don't. But Bilbo..." Thorin couldn't help the smile that spread across his face at the thought of his beautiful boy, "we're figuring it out together."

"If you don't know what you're doing, then how can you know it's the real thing? Maybe it was a mistake."

"No...it's not a mistake! I've never felt anything like this before. It's like...the whole world gets brighter whenever he's around...more exciting! After I told Balin about..."

"You shittin' me?" Dwalin hollered, more hurt by this news than anything else. "You told Balin before me? You son of a bitch! I should punch you in the face just for that!" He waved his fist in Thorin's face.

Thorin threw his hands up. "Woah! Wait a minute, will ya? It was last Sunday night...I was dropping off the car and man! I had to tell somebody, I was dying! I had just kissed Bilbo goodnight at his house and...I couldn't tell ma and I wasn't sure about you..."

Dwalin's face fell, along with his fist. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard come out of his best friend's mouth. "How could you not be sure about telling _me_?"

"I wasn't sure, alright?! You ever tell someone you're a faggot, before? Huh? I told Balin first because I knew he'd understand!"

"I'm not _someone_ , Thorin! I love you, man! I'm not going to walk out on you cuz you've gone and lost your mind."

Thorin pulled himself up, tall, "No, man, I'm _not_ crazy. I'm a homosexual."

Dwalin opened his mouth and then, slowly, shut it. There it was, the word, right in front of them. _Homosexual_. And it hit Dwalin, hit him hard, right between the eyes! His best friend in the whole wide world had just come out to him as a homosexual. "Ok," He whispered, nodding. Accepting. "Ok. So, you're a homo .I don't have a problem with that. You're still my best friend, so don't think this means you get to replace your old gang with a new homo gang or something. And I swear, if you start dressing like my brother..."

Thorin laughed, so relieved that the cat was finally out of the bag and Dwalin was dealing with the news without anyone getting punched in the face. "Why the fuck would I do that? I'm gay, man, I'm not _old_! And where am I gonna find a homo gang? Christ, Dwalin! Although...Balin did say he has some friends he wants Bilbo and me to meet..."

Dwalin nearly choked on the beer he was trying to swallow. "See! That's how it starts! Think Ididn't notice you're already wearing collared shirts to school?"

"That's only cuz I had to hide this," Thorin smirked as he pulled his collar down to expose his neck.

Dwalin couldn't see a thing in the dark so he pulled his friend into the moonlight where he could make out a patch of faint yellowy-green on Thorin's skin. "That's a hickey!"

"You bet it is!" Thorin bragged, proud as hell of his boyfriend. "My first one."

"Baby boy gave you that?"

"I sure as helI didn't give it to myself." 

"And what about this?" Dwalin lifted the exposed chain around Thorin's neck, the ring popping into view. "Did he give you this, too?"

Thorin grabbed the ring back and held on to it, tight. "It was his pop's."

"So it's all official, you two. My best friend goes and gets hooked up and I don't know a damn thing is going on. Well...fuck me!".

"Give me a break, will ya? Please?! Jesus, Dwal!" Thorin shook the hand which still held the ring, "This only happened yesterday!"

"What'd you give him?" 

Thorin tucked the ring back under his shirt, kind of embarrassed to admit, "All I could find was my old Boy Scout pin."

"Damn! I should've thought of that!"

"What? Smokey the Bear not good enough for your girl?" Thorin knew all about the old Smokey the Bear Fan Club pin Dwalin had given to Sherilyn. And he knew all about how much she cherished it. 

"I guess she digs it...just seems kinda...I don't know. She's a classy girl..." Dwalin took a swig and gave Thorin a good, hard look. "You coulda had her, man."

"What? You still beating that old nag?" Thorin went to retrieve his beer from the picnic table.

"I mean...you _had_ her! You've kissed her. You know how soft she is...how good she smells...and you gave that up so you can feel up some little four-eyed..."

"Watch it." Thorin warned, low and icy.

"Hey! I don't mean anything against him...I _like_ Bilbo! I really do! I'm just having a hard time understanding...I love that girl, Thorin! And the only reason she's with me is because you..."

"Don't say that. Sherilyn's crazy about you! Look at it this way...things happen for a reason, right? And everything that _is_ , is exactly the way it should be." Thorin held out his bottle and Dwalin clinked his against it.

He chuckled, "You're already starting to sound like the little bookworm."

"I can't think of anything finer." Thorin beamed. "Thank you."

"You know it's going to take a while for me to wrap my brain around all this...you and Bilbo."

"Take as long as you want, brother. Nothing's going to change how I feel about him."

The two friends stood, side by side at the edge of the overlook, silently drinking their beers and looking out at the twinkling lights of Pasadena, thinking over all that had passed between them that night. Dwalin still had a couple of questions for his friend and he mulled over the wisdom of asking them. Hell, he may still walk away from this evening sporting a new shiner. He leaned over, whispering...

"So, uhhh...I was wondering if you...you know...do you want to..."

Thorin lowered his bottle from his lips and side-eyed his friend suspiciously. "Do I want to what?"

"You know," Dwalin knew there was no way to back out of this one, "do you want to... _make it with him_?"

"Do you want to make it with Sherilyn?" Thorin asked. He already knew the answer.

"You know I do! But, it's different with you two."

"No, it's not. How's it different?"

"You're both guys, for one. How are you supposed to..."

"Balin says there's a way."

"Oh GEEZ-US! You talked to him about _doin'_ it?!"

"Of course I did. If you had tough questions wouldn't you ask someone who'd have all the answers?"

"Yeah, I guess...but Balin? Did he start drawing you diagrams or something? Shit, no one can drone on quite like Bal can."

Thorin laughed, more from relief than anything else. "Come on, he's not as bad as all that. And diagrams ain't such a bad idea. I think I may need them sooner or later."

Dwalin tried not to let the mental picture of Thorin and Bilbo doing...whatever...into his head. "I'd figure Bilbo would have that all figured out way before you, brother. But...do you think he'll want to do it?"

Thorin shrugged, "I suppose so. I don't know. We haven't talked about it. But if he's willing, I'd go all the way with him."

Dwalin leaned back to get a better look at Thorin. Never in a million years would he have ever guessed that they would be having this conversation, that Thorin would be telling him how he'd finally fallen in love with someone and that someone was a boy. Dwalin had always counted on them being best man at each other's weddings. Well, that wasn't going to change, not for him, at least. He wanted Thorin at his side as he watched Sherilyn walk down the aisle, on her way to becoming his wife. And he would stand at Thorin's side, no matter what happened. He couldn't admit to understanding any of it...he really couldn't. But he also couldn't deny the look on Thorin's face whenever Bilbo was around. He knew there were plenty of people out there who would tell him that his friend, as well as his brother and others like them, were sick...a menace to society...but he knew that just wasn't true! So Thorin liked kissing a boy! Kinda weird, but so what? Who was he hurting? If it meant that two decent fellas found real happiness together, then who was he to tell them no?

"You know, Durin," Dwalin drapped an arm around his friend's shoulders, "I've got Bilbo's back. From here on out. Your blood's my blood."

Thorin reciprocated, squeezing Dwalin's shoulder. "Thank you, Dwal. I really appreciate that."

"He's such a tiny little thing..."

"Watch it." Thorin growled, under his breath, but a look from Dwalin soon had the guys laughing and slapping each other on the back. Everything was back to normal, more or less. They had made a pledge, years ago, when they were just kids, that they would be brothers, through thick and thin, and this little episode was proof that their pledge was ironclad. Nothing would ever tear them apart.

"Here's to love," Dwalin held out his nearly empty beer bottle.

"I second that," Thorin did the same. The boys clinked their bottles, downed the contents, and, together, tossed them off the cliff, into the night.

++++++++

**2941 Acorn Lane - 9:15 p.m.**

_BR-R-R-R-INGGGGG!!!_

"Bilbo, dearest, would you get that, please?" Ada Took was on a kitting tear and risking a dropped stitch for a phone call, at this late point in the cable knit sweater she was making for her grandson, was nowhere on her dance card.

Bilbo looked back at her from his spot on the rug, in front of the t.v. "Sure thing, grandma." And, tearing himself away from the _Pat Boone Chevy Showroom_ , he got up and plopped himself down in the old easy chair that had been his grandpa's before picking up the phone's receiver. 

"Good evening, Took residence. This is Bilbo...Hey! Thorin! Hi!"

Thorin leaned against the side of the phone booth, grinning ear-to-ear at the sound of Bilbo's voice, warm and sweet in his ear, on the other end of the line. "Hey there, baby! How's tricks?"

"Wonderful, now that I'm talking to you." Bilbo curled up in the chair, his slippered feet tucked underneath him. "Grandma wants me to say 'hello' for her...and she wants to know when you're coming over. She and mom are really looking forward to meeting you."

Thorin laughed, "Soon as can be, kiddo."

"Grandma wants to know if Sunday afternoon is ok. For lunch. May even be warm enough for a swim. How does that sound?

"Sounds great. Yeah, Sunday should be fine. Look, Bilbo, the reason I'm calling you..." A large truck rumbled down the street, past the corner market phone booth Thorin had decided he should make the call from. Out in public was a much safer bet than calling from home. 

"Where are you?" Bilbo asked, hearing muffled traffic in the background. He was a little worried that Thorin wasn't at home even though he knew he'd gotten off work over two hours ago.

"I'm at a phone booth. I grabbed some dinner with Dwalin after work and...I got something great to tell you."

"Oh yeah?" Bilbo twirled the phone's cord around his fingers, "What's that?"

"I talked to Dwalin and...he knows. He knows about us. About you and me and he's ok with it."

Bilbo's blood seemed to rush to his feet and his cord twirling hand dropped. "So I don't need to change my name and move out of state?"

"What? Are you kidding? Of course not! Don't be silly!"

"Well...It's no secret that he's not exactly my biggest fan." Bilbo let this news sink in as Pat Boone sang benignly in the background.

"Where you getting that? He _likes_ you! He told me that himself. Look, you've got nothing to worry about. Dwalin is my oldest, closest...he's like a brother to me, you know this. He also told me he's got your back, so there's nothing to worry about. Not anymore."

"No, I suppose not...except for Nori, Bofur, Dis, your mom..." 

"Hey! Stop that! You know what, cutie pie?"

"What?" Bilbo snuggled deeper into the chair as the endearment made his cheeks go all pink.

"You worry too much."

"Yeah. I suppose I do. Thorin?"

"Yeah, baby." Thorin wished there weren't miles of telephone line between them. He sure could've used a big dose of Bilbo in his arms.

"I'm glad Dwalin knows...and that it didn't hurt your friendship. That would've been the worst, if it had."

"Like I said, you worry too much. Damn...baby, I should probably get going. Gotta hit the books before bed."

"Get home safe and sound, ok?"

"You got it. Anything else?"

"Yeah..." Bilbo did a quick glance over at grandma, who was doing her best to look like she wasn't listening in on her grandson's conversation with his new boyfriend. "One more thing..I love you."

"I love you, too. Damn, do I ever!" Thorin ignored the obnoxious comments that came from a couple of John Muir squares getting into their Plymouth, parked in front of the market, next to the phone booth.

"Good! I'll see you in the morning?"

"Bright and early, babe, with eyes only for you."

Bilbo pressed a kissed to the mouthpiece of the receiver. "Good night, Thorin."

"Good night, Bilbo." Thorin held the receiver to his ear until he heard Bilbo hang up, followed by the dial tone. He hung it up and walked...practically danced...to his bike. He had told Balin, and now Dwalin knew. And the world hadn't crashed in on him. Getting on his bike, Thorin fired up the engine. Never before had the rumble of the bike, underneath him, felt so damn _good_ before. And through the nighttime streets of Pasadena he roared, wanting to shout to the four corners of the earth how much he loved his boy and how wonderful it was to be in love. And never before, he realized, had the old town felt so much like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a whole lot to go on about for this chapter. Research for this fic has always been a blast for me and I enjoy looking up brands, such as Miracle Whip and Wonderbread, to see if they existed in the 1950s. It was the era of "better living through chemistry" and anything to help the busy homemaker was a blessing. I came across [this really interesting film](https://youtu.be/ZxyHX0MyfPg) on youtube. It is actually a sales promo film for Redbook magazine, but it gives us a contemporary look at the "suburbanization" of American life in the 50's, as well as what the expectations of family life were. It contains a lot of really great footage, a lot of it in color, so, if a real-life glimpse at this era is what you're after, I can't recommend this enough.
> 
> The [Pat Boone Chevy Showroom](https://youtu.be/Dkic0k-wjhs) aired at 9 p.m. on ABC during the fall of 1958. Bilbo wasn't kidding when he said he was a Pat Boone fan, way back in chapter one. Say what you want about the guy (squeaky clean square) but he did have sort of a dreamy voice. And he was kind of cute. And had swell guests like Italian star Gina Lollobrigida on his show. What wasn't to like?
> 
> I do have a couple of t.v. shows I want to share that fall under the "OMG YOU GUYS LOOK THIS IS THE BEST!" category. I recently gave up cable for Hulu and have discovered a plethora of television from the 50s and 60s. The first show is [Peter Gunn](https://youtu.be/DMs6bHX1Fo0?list=PLtGAWgQ4YjbZq-yTkIl05Q9Hc5P-lZc60) (1958-1961), a jazzy take on the hardboiled detective drama. Peter Gunn is as smooth as they come, helping solve capers to a bebop soundtrack (courtesy of Mr. Henry Mancini, composer of, among many things, the [Pink Panther theme](https://youtu.be/DMs6bHX1Fo0?list=PLtGAWgQ4YjbZq-yTkIl05Q9Hc5P-lZc60)). He's got a doll by the name of Edie, who is as smokin' hot and cool as they come. Her and Peter's relationship is one of the high lights of the show. There is a tongue in cheek element to the writing, not surprising since Blake Edwards was the show runner. One of the things I dig about the show is their portrayal of "beatniks". Not to be confused with the writers and poets who were part of the Beat literary scene at the time, beatniks were the kids who dug that scene and were often portrayed in the media as they are in "Peter Gunn", a bunch of self-indulgent, french cigarette smoking, beret wearing, goatee sporting space cases rapping out poetry about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (which I believe does happen in a season one episdode). Aside from whether the kids who were into that scene were really like that (probably as much yes as no), these "hipsters" add a flavor to the shows that is so purely indicative of that time, that I can't help loving it. Oh, and another little tidbit that tickled me somewhat...the very first episode aired on September 22, 1958. 
> 
> The other show I'm positively gaga over is [The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis](https://youtu.be/Nuy3bbfad_w) (1959-1963). Dobie is a high school boy who is obsessed with girls and seems to spend his every waking hour trying to procure one, usually with little success. His best friend is Maynard Krebs (played by Bob "Gilligan" Denver), a beatnik who cares about nothing but Jazz and his buddy Dobie. The writing is pretty cute and makes me chuckle...I especially like Dobie's poor, long-suffering father who wishes his son would spend more time working in the family store than bumming money and chasing skirts. Maynard, however, is my favorite here. He is one bopped out cat! A lot of jazz musician name dropping happens when Maynard's on the screen. The other beatniks on the show are the owner of the record shop, who is regularly throwing Maynard out, usually for being too enthusiastic, and "Far-out Girl" who just sits and stares, digging the sounds, cigarette in a holder, beret on her head. Far out, dad! Far out! Oh...and Warren Beatty plays Dobie's rival, rich boy Milton Armitage, in five episodes.
> 
> Summer is very much on its way here in the Pacific Northwest, and I hope everything is sunny and warm (or however you like it best) where you are!
> 
> Just a reminder...I've got a tumblr [where I post anything and everything](http://2941-acorn-lane.tumblr.com/) that I come across in my research. At the moment that means the plight of homosexuals, mid-century, as well as the Beats. Can you dig it?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/IeFxlLw)
> 
> _Bilbo's chest tightened instantly. And instantly he knew. He knew in that moment, right then and there, that he was officially, fully and completely, madly in love with Thorin Durin._
> 
> A week into their new friendship, the boys hang out at Miller's again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off...I want to apologize for the long wait. The last couple of months have been chock full of distractions such as a bout of food poisoning that knocked me on my butt for a whole week and a hot and heavy fling with the 1970's after watching the movie "Milk", staring Sean Penn as Gay Rights Activist Harvey Milk. The movie is absolutely wonderful...highly recommend! And there was that week long binge watch of the first season of "Queer as Folk" (OMG I LOVE THAT SHOW SO MUCH!!!!) But, with some much needed discipline, I returned to the 1950's and got this done! This is the second to last flashback chapter, as there are still a few holes in the boys' "pre-kiss" history that need to be filled in.
> 
> No new tags...Evie makes an appearance, so expect her to be unpleasant.
> 
> OH! I made a [playlist on 8 tracks](http://8tracks.com/stesha-n/a-return-to-miller-s) to accompany the chapter. It's of all of the songs I imagine Bilbo would play on the jukebox at Miller's.
> 
> Thank you so much for being patient and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Oh yeah...HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!!!!

**October 1, 1958. Lunch Period**

Evendím gave the rude _thing_ , standing in front of her, her most put-out pout. "Who wants to know?" She threw back at him, earning a round of tittering approval from her friends, assembled around her at their usual lunch-time spot like some kind of royal court. Her heart leaped with glee as the object-of-her-affection, Togo Goodbody, joined in with, "What's it to ya, pal?" 

Thorin let his eyes travel from Evendím to Togo, and if he hadn't actually needed to get an answer out of Little Miss Hoity-toity, he'd have been more than happy to plant his fist right in the middle of Goodbody's smug, over-tanned face with it's too-white, too-even teeth. Instead, he mustered all of the restraint he had socked away in his six-plus foot frame and returned his focus to Evendím.

"Do you have a cousin named Bilbo, or don't you? It's not that hard a question."

Evendím wasn't quite ready to give in to this...primate. Not due to some feeling of protection on behalf of her cousin Bilbo...queer little fungus that he was...but purely for the fact that no one should be allowed to speak to her like that. She had half a mind to sic Togo on the grease monkey, and she might've, if she'd actually thought Togo could beat him. Crossing her legs like the lady she fancied herself to be while sitting up as prim and proper as she could, and trying as hard as she could to look down her nose at Thorin as she looked _up_ at him, she cleared her throat. "Yes, I have a cousin named Bilbo. But, like I said before..."

"Just tell me where I can find him." Thorin ground out. He was officially done dealing with this sorry example of the so-called _fairer_ sex. He'd have to remember to ask Bilbo how he puts up with her and her clique, without insulting his family, of course. 

"Why should I?" Evendím could tell she was punching all of this Durin character's buttons by the way he clenched his jaw as he shoved his hands in his pockets, as if he wanted nothing more than to punch someone. Oooh, was he ever getting mad! She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. Perhaps she would get to see Toggie go into battle on her behalf, after all. She would be sure to make big over her "brave, brave Toggie", after the dust had settled, as well as see that Durin got kicked out of school for good. One less _heeb_ on campus would suit her just fine.

Thorin inhaled hard, in through his nose, and clenched his fists. He was getting the feeling she wanted to start a fight, and as much as he was beginning to really like the idea, it was the last thing he needed. "Look," He relaxed his stance and pulled his hands out of his pockets, "the sooner you tell me where I can find Bilbo, the sooner I'll get out of here. Alright? I'm not going to hurt him. I just want to ask him something."

"Like I care." Evendím muttered under her breath before snarling, "He's probably in the library. Ran off blabbing something about an article for the school paper. If he's not there then I don't know. I'm not his keeper."

"Thanks" fell out of Thorin's mouth like a lump of lead and hit the ground at Evendim's feet as he turned and walked away, glad to be done with that unpleasant business. He was also glad that Dwalin was elsewhere, probably neck deep with Sherilyn, now that they were going steady. Taking on a creep like Togo Goodbody was the kind of scuffle both boys could certainly get behind, but it was the kind of trouble neither of them needed, not Senior year, with graduation looming on the horizon. No, a sigh of relief for a disaster averted was definitely in order. 

Now, on to the library.

+

Bilbo was easy to spot, sitting alone at one of the tables in the center of the library; fancy-patterned sweater vest, rolled-up sleeves, head propped-up in his hand, glasses askew on his face. As Thorin got closer, he could see that the kid's eyes were closed behind his glasses. And not once did they blink, or Bilbo stir, not even as Thorin took the seat across the table from him. For all intents and purposes, as far as Thorin was concerned, Bilbo was asleep, still clutching his pen, a notebook full of rolling, scrolling handwriting laid out open in front of him.

Thorin sat and watched, not entirely sure how to proceed. He didn't want to wake him up, but he also didn't want to wait for the end-of-lunch bell to do it for him. Sliding his foot forward, he figured he'd go for the subtle, under-the-table approach but, instead of bumping into a foot he found nothing but empty space. Scootching down in his chair, he slid his foot back and forth only to encounter...nothing. Wondering where the lower half of the kid could be hiding, Thorin ducked down and peaked under the table. The truth was quite simple; feet, complete with rolled white socks peaking out of penny loafers, were crossed, neatly, at the ankles and tucked away, under the chair, as only someone of Bilbo's particular stature could. Thorin came back up only to find him, wide awake, and highly amused.

"Did you lose something?" Bilbo asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.

"Uhhh...no." Thorin found he could only stammer as he faced Bilbo, smiling brightly back at him. He could feel the sudden heat of embarrassment begin to creep up his neck. "I was just..."

"Hi." Bilbo cut him off, taking pity on the boy. Thorin Durin, at a loss for words...it had to be a first. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to tease."

Just as suddenly as Bilbo had caught him off guard, his words calmed Thorin, who relaxed back in his chair, once again in full possession of his _cool_. "Hey," He greeted the kid through a crooked smile, "I thought you were asleep."

Bilbo cleaned his glasses as he shook his head, lazy curls flopping about his forehead. "Nope. Just thinking. What are you doing here?"

"What?" Thorin's smile never faltered, eyes never strayed. "I'm not allowed in the library?"

"No." Bilbo put his glasses back on, blinking a couple of times before Thorin was back in focus. He wondered if he would ever get used to sitting across from such an impossibly handsome boy as he tried his best to ignore the acrobatics taking place inside his chest. "I meant, what are you doing sitting at my table?"

Thorin immediately sat up and began patting the pockets of his well-worn leather jacket. "Ahhh...you know what?" He snapped his fingers. "I must've left my invitation in my other jacket."

Bilbo chuckled as he leaned forward and patted his outstretched hand on the table in front of Thorin. "You're right. I'm sorry, that came out all wrong. You're just not the first person I expected to see sitting across from me."

"Well...I'm here." Thorin looked at the small, pale hand that he had grown so fond of. It seemed to be reaching out to him and for a moment there he felt oddly tempted to touch it, but then Bilbo quickly pulled it back, sparing him any further embarrassment.

"I'm glad." Bilbo closed his notebook and folded his hands on top of it, where they couldn't get into any trouble. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I just wanted to make sure we're still on for Miller's, after school."

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't miss that for anything."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin raised an eyebrow. "Anything?"

"Sure." Bilbo fought to ignore the blush that was trying to burn his face to a crisp as he met Thorin's gaze, head-on, eye-to-eye. He would have to work doubly hard to keep his true feelings safely hidden away if he was to maintain any sort of friendship with the boy. "Well...almost anything. Within reason, of course."

Thorin chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. "Gotcha."

"Where should I meet you?"

"How 'bout you come up to the auto shop."

"Alright. I'll be there...with bells on."

"I guess I'll hear you coming, then." Thorin watched as Bilbo's bright smile suddenly went soft and shy and the kid dropped his eyes to his hands, still folded in front of him on the table. When green eyes again met his, Thorin couldn't help smiling back like an idiot. And it only got worse when Bilbo reciprocated in kind. Leaning forward, Thorin drummed a quick beat on the table... 

("shhhhh!" Miss Hayden, the school librarian, scolded from her desk.)

before standing up. He reached into his pocket. "I got a surprise for you." And into the air he flipped a dime...and out of the air Bilbo caught it. And for some reason, which will remain unknown to him for still some time to come, Thorin felt a heady jolt of adrenalin pump throughout his body. With Bilbo's face raised to his and watching, Thorin flipped up the collar on his jacket with every ounce of attitude he possessed. 

"Catch you 'round, kiddo." He said through an Elvis-like sneer and away he strutted, out of the library, giving a glowering Miss Hayden a cheeky wink.

Bilbo watched Thorin walk away, not missing a single step. The boy was so tall and solidly built with long, denim-clad legs attached to a full, round...

Bilbo shook his head, blushing furiously. It was wrong of him to be looking at his new friend like that. He had a crush on Thorin, there was no question of that, but the boy was his _friend_ , not some anonymous man on the street he could admire and not have to worry about because he would only ever see that person once. And what would Thorin think if he knew? _He'd probably be horrified and never speak to me again._ Bilbo though to himself. _And who could blame him?_ He hadn't yet been able to muster up the kind of optimism that Jimmy had expressed regarding Thorin and whether he was _one of them_. Thorin was a regular guy, he was sure of it. A real nice guy, much nicer and a hell of a lot more fun than most, but he was still a regular guy. No, Bilbo knew he was just going to have to be careful, not come on too strong, not scare Thorin away. Slumping back in his chair, Bilbo bit his lower lip as he examined the dime in his hand. Well, there was no need to worry about such things right now. As long as he was extra careful, Thorin would never know.

The bell rang.

+

**Miller's Pharmacy and Soda Shop, after school**

"Good." Carol said out loud to no one but herself, happy to see the two boys she'd waited on the previous week, an unmatched pair if there ever was one, tuck themselves into the same booth, the one by the big window that looked out on to North Bonnie. Again, she was struck by how much the smaller one reminded her of her kid brother, Joey, jr., who was not so much a kid anymore. He, too, had been small for a boy during his high school years as well as wore glasses and preferred brighter colors in his clothing. 

(The tall one, handsome devil that he was, was the kind of guy who would've been happier beating up little Joey than going with him for cokes after school.)

Anyway...the family had worried about their only boy, who had been far more content flying kites and roller skating with the neighborhood girls than collecting tadpoles with the boys, and they all had been honestly surprised when he had passed muster with the U.S. Army and had gotten shipped off to fight in Korea. Afterwards, he had come home, battle-weary, with nothing more than a scar from where a bullet had grazed his arm. Well, that wasn't the only thing he had come home with. He had had a new friend in tow; a swell, outgoing fella from Jacksonville, Miss. Scott, his name was, but everyone called him Scotty and soon he was just another member of the family. Joey only ever told one person the truth about his "friendship" with Scotty and that was his big sister Carol. She had been more curious than shocked, because...honestly...it wasn't a surprise that Joey, who had always been a little _fey_ , even as a kid, was queer. She had hugged and kissed her brother and then hugged Scotty, calling him _brother_ for the first time, just as she still did to that day.

Seeing these boys again was a reminder that it had been a couple of weeks since she had last talked to Joey and Scotty, now living, pleasantly but discreetly, in their own place by the beach in Santa Monica. She would give them a call as soon as she got home.

Filling two water glasses, Carol took them to table number three.

+

Bilbo had been up high, on cloud 9, ever since he had arrived at the school's auto shop after the final bell and found Thorin waiting for him, alone, leaning against the ass-end of the woody. He'd had his arms folded across his chest, and was wearing a cocky smile that had made Bilbo's heart race.

"What took you so long?" Thorin teased, not budging an inch from his spot.

"Aww..." Bilbo gave a shrug of faux humility as he shoved his hands in to his trouser pockets. "You know how it is...teach had to spend the last ten minutes singing my praises to the whole class, then there were the testimonials and handshakes...

"What? You win the Nobel Peace Prize or somethin'?"

Bilbo looked up at him from under his bangs. "Or somethin'." 

Thorin chuckled as he pushed himself off the car and, with a hand clasped on Bilbo's shoulder, turned him in the opposite direction. "I like ya, kiddo. Let's go."

" _I like ya._ "

Thorin's words played over and over and over in Bilbo's head the entire way to Miller's while they kibitzed, mostly about Thorin's friends and where they had gone off to so quickly after school. Bilbo learned that Nori and Bofur had gone to look at a bike some guy they'd met at the garage wanted to sell and Dwalin was off with his new...

"Girlfriend? Wow, you weren't kidding about girls going crazy for the whole scary routine. I mean..." Bilbo turned to Thorin as they crossed Colorado Boulevard, "I don't know him...and he's your best friend, so I'm sure he's a great guy..."

"Cool it, will ya? I get where you're coming from. Like I told you, he's proud of his rep. But to tell you the truth," Thorin took a drag on his cigarette as they stepped up on to the curb, "this chick has made a mewlin' kitten out of him."

Bilbo laughed at the image of Dwalin...big, intimidating Dwalin...being brought to his knees by a pretty face. "Who's the girl?"

"Sherilyn Horne...know her?"

"Can't say that I do, but I barely know anyone. Besides you."

That last bit brought a smile to Thorin's face. "Yes you do. And I'm not surprised you don't know her...she's not exactly part of your cousin's _illustrious_ crowd."

Bilbo made a face as they walked through the doors of the now familiar Miller's Drugstore and Soda Fountain. "Lucky girl." He mumbled under his breath.

"I spoke to her today."

"Who?"

"Your charming cousin."

"Why would you want to do a thing like that?"

"I was looking for you." Thorin put an emphasis on _you_ with a finger pointed right at Bilbo's nose.

"Oh." Bilbo felt his cheeks go warm as they walked past a large display of Ipana toothpaste, complete with Bucky the Beaver telling everyone to "Brusha, brusha, brusha!". "That's how you knew I was in the library."

"Bingo! Give the boy a prize!"

"I meant to ask you how you knew I was there." 

"Look, our table's free." Thorin walked right over to the booth by the big window and slid his _significant_ frame on to the seat. He got out of his leather jacket as he watched Bilbo bounce along the red vinyl bench on the other side of the table.

"Please tell me she was pleasant." Bilbo's poor brain was torn between the awfulness of Thorin having to deal with Evie and the wonderfulness that the booth by the window was officially "our table".

"Sorry to break your heart." Thorin was sorry he couldn't tell Bilbo that cousin _Evil_ had been a real peach. The last thing he wanted was to deliver the kid a downer bit of news, but the truth...no matter how one sliced it...was that Evendím Took was a real piece of work.

"Don't be." Bilbo shook his head, smiling softly, before looking up at the waitress...the same one from last week...who was just delivering them their water glasses. "Hi Carol." 

Carol looked at the young man - so much like her Joey! - taken back by his use of her name. She was also surprised when he offered his hand, which she promptly took, after wiping her own off on her apron. 

"My name's Bilbo."

"Nice to meet you...Bilbo, was that?"

Bilbo nodded, smiling so cheerfully one would think it was the happiest day of his life. "And this is my friend Thorin."

Thorin held his hand out to the waitress. "Hey, how's it goin'?"

"Great," Carol shook tall-dark-and-handsome's hand, "now that you two are here. What can I get you boys?"

Bilbo thought hard for about half a second before ordering "one of those wonderful Strawberry Italian sodas. Like last week."

"You got it. How 'bout you, sugar..." She looked at Thorin, who, she noticed, only had eyes for the boy across from him. 

"I'll have a chocolate malted. And..." Thorin leaned across the table, "I don't think my _compadre_ is done ordering."

Bilbo couldn't help giggling at Thorin who was leaning across the table, eyebrows raised, waiting in anticipation. "I ate lunch today, so the soda will do me just fine."

"I got a pocket full of scratch, kiddo. Come on...live it up." Thorin punctuated with a wink.

Bilbo's head was fairly swimming with Thorin being...just being himself and himself was as good as Bilbo could've ever imagined plus so much more! "Oh...all right...how about a basket of fries..."

"Extra-crispy." Thorin tossed in. He had remembered.

"Yeah." Was all Bilbo was able to say. He would later recall Carol clicking her pen and promising to get their order to them as soon as possible, but at that moment the entire world was silent and covered in a shimmering gossamer blanket...as if giant spiders had spun their magic web all around and the only thing...the only person...Bilbo could make out was the dreamboat sitting across from him. He eventually found his voice. "You know...Thorin...you don't have to pay for me."

Thorin took a sip from his water glass. "I told you I would. Besides, it's a way to thank you for what you did on Saturday with the car...and warning me about Parker."

"The car was all grandma's idea...and besides, if we keep going at this rate, we'll never be even."

"And what's wrong with that?" Thorin asked in-between crunching ice cubes.

Bilbo sat back in the booth and looked into those blue eyes that he would've sworn were trying to steal his soul. "Nothing." He answered. "Nothing at all."

"Okay, then!" Thorin patted the table. "Hey! I almost forgot," he pulled his jacket into his lap and rummaged through the pockets. "I gotta surprise for you."

"Thorin...you don't have to..." And he bust out into a full belly laugh as a small paper sack was plopped on the table in front of him, hitting the Formica with a high metal _smack_. "Is this what I think..." he pulled the bag towards him and peaked inside. It was exactly what Thorin had promised the week before...a bag of dimes. There had to be at least five bucks worth! "I'm taking requests, dad! Whadda ya wanna hear?" Bilbo asked, excited, as he let a smattering of coins come rolling out of the sack.

"Nah," Thorin relaxed in his seat, his arm slung over the back, "this is all you, kiddo. It's your show."

Bilbo scooted down his seat to be closer to the table top song selector and, when he got there, he began to go over the one hundred tunes stored in the pharmacy's old Seeburg. "You're being way too nice to me, you know that? Especially after having to deal with Evie today." He plunked a dime in the box and pushed two buttons...A-7.

Thorin shrugged, "That was nothing. I've dealt with worse. Besides, you're not your cousin. Though, I would've sworn she was itching for me and her lap dog to get into it."

"She was trying to start a fight between you and who? Togo?" Bilbo looked away from the song selector, incredulity written all over his face. Evie tried to start a fight between Thorin and her sort-of-but-not-really boyfriend, Togo? That had to be who Thorin was referring to. _Lap dog_. It couldn't be anyone else. "She didn't..."

Thorin nodded, sadly. "She did. Hold on..." Thorin held up a finger and listened to the first of Bilbo's songs. A lively beat set by handclaps got the tune off to a bouncing start...

_Lollipop Lollipop_  
_Oh Lolli Lolli Lolli_  
_Lollipop Lollipop_  
_Oh Lolli Lolli Lolli_  
_Lollipop Lollipop_  
_Oh Lolli Lolli Lolli_  
_Lollipop...POP!_

"Do you like this one?" Bilbo asked, just as Thorin added his own **POP!** , in-time with the song, by flicking his finger on the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah," Thorin nodded his head in time with the beat, "I do, actually. Goofy little tune. My sis is crazy about it. I've heard her singing it probably about a hundred times." 

"Sounds like a cool kid, your sister." 

Thorin shrugged, but Bilbo could tell he was bustin' with pride. "She's ok for a brat."

"Thorin...about Evie...I'm sorry she was rude to you."

Thorin gave Bilbo a reassuring smile. "Like I said, I've dealt with worse. She eventually gave you up, which is all I wanted. She told me I could find you in the library, napping." 

"No she didn't!" Bilbo yanked a napkin out of the dispenser, waded it up, and chucked it at the laughing boy who made a show of ducking from it. "Besides, I wasn't asleep."

"Oh no? Coulda fooled me."

"I wasn't. I was just thinking."

"About your article for the paper?"

"Evie did tell you that, didn't she? No...I was thinking about something else...about a story I want to write. We...some of the kids who are on the paper and I...are going to start a literary journal....the first one Pasadena High has ever had."

"No kidding? That's great! Wow...only been here a month and you're already leaving your mark."

"I suppose...I hadn't thought about it like that." Bilbo shied away from the smiling face of his friend, and tried to focus on the song listings. "So...is Sherilyn pretty?"

"She's drop-dead gorgeous." Thorin admitted, a dreamy lilt to his voice. Sherilyn was as boss a gal as they came and he couldn't sing her praises higher, especially now that she had made Dwalin such a happy fella. "Why?"

Bilbo shook his head as he pretended to read song titles while his heart took a little tumble from the high branch. He had heard the tone in Thorin's voice. _Of course he likes girls...of course_! he yelled, silently, at himself. It had been ridiculous of him to even consider that Thorin...

"I was just curious, that's all. I wonder if I've ever seen her."

"You ever seen a doll who looks like a dead-ringer for Elizabeth Taylor..."

Bilbo had indeed seen a girl on campus who resembled the actress many considered the most beautiful woman alive. Why she was still a student and not making it in the movies was something he had wondered about. He whipped his head around to face Thorin, mouth hanging open. "That's her?"

Thorin couldn't help chuckling at the look of surprise on his friend's face. It was most people's reaction when finding out that Sherilyn, the prettiest girl at PHS, if not all of Pasadena, and rough-around-the-edges Dwalin were an item. "Yup, that's her. And she's as swell as she is a looker."

"She's beautiful. I..." Bilbo weighed the wisdom of what he wanted to say next. He looked at Thorin, with his friendly, smiling eyes, and decided to lay a bet that there was some strength to their still new friendship. "I'm wondering why a girl, a pretty girl like her, would go for...and I mean no disrespect...but...why would she choose a...a guy like Dwalin...over a...well...a great guy like you." 

Thorin leaned forward, Bilbo's compliment making him feel strangely self-conscious, and he picked at the gold flakes in the formica tabletop. "It's funny that you say that, because she did. At first. But it didn't work out...not the girl for me, I guess. Or I wasn't the guy for her. Haven't really thought about it all that much. She's swell...and we're still pals, but..." He shrugged.

Bilbo watched Thorin closely, trying as hard as he could to read his friend. He had dated Sherilyn but it hadn't worked out? How could either one of them walk away from the other? She was the kind of girl that Bilbo figured most guys dreamt of dating and Thorin...well...

"Do you...do you have a girl?" There it was. Out in the open. The question asked.

Thorin smiled wistfully as he shook his head. "Nah...I don't seem to have much luck in that department."

Bilbo tried to keep from looking like he'd just won the sweepstakes by biting his upper lip to kill his smile. It couldn't hurt to hope...just a little bit...could it? "I would think," he said when he finally got his elation under control, "a handsome boy like you would have girls coming out of the woodwork, left and right."

"You know what?" Thorin looked up at Bilbo, his grin exposing pearly whites. "You're a real sweetheart."

"That's what my mom tells me, but she's a bit biased." Bilbo bragged, trying to figure out what all of this meant. Really meant.

Thorin grabbed the wadded-up napkin from where it had landed on the seat beside him and lobbed it right back at Bilbo. "It's the truth, kiddo. Heads up!"

The napkin bounced off Bilbo's forehead just as Carol pulled up to the table, a large, round tray balanced in one hand. 

"Looks to me like the natives are getting restless." Carol teased as she placed a malt in front of Thorin followed by the explosion of pink froth and fluff that was Bilbo's strawberry Italian soda.

"Food makes them friendly," Bilbo offered as he plunged a straw into his glass.

Don't mind my friend," Thorin plucked the cherry off the top of his malt, "he was raised in the wild by wolves."

Carol laughed as the little blonde boy stuck his tongue out at the dark-haired boy, who chuckled good-naturedly. And she was still smiling to herself as she walked away to check on their fries.

  
_If you knew Peggy Sue_  
_Then you'd know why I feel blue_  
_Without Peggy, my Peggy Sue_  
_Oh well, I love you, gal_  
Yes, I love you Peggy Sue

Thorin clapped his hands. "All right...it's Buddy! Now you're getting this place rockin'. Buddy's the real deal."

Bilbo came up from his straw. "You like Buddy Holly?" He asked, while silently congratulating himself for picking a winner.

"Aw, man, he's the greatest! Better than that Elvis cat."

"Shhhh!" Bilbo looked around as if he expected them to be attacked by a horde of enraged teenyboppers. "Be careful who you say that around."

"Don't worry. I live with an Elvis fanatic so I know all about it." 

"Your sister?"

"Mmmm hmmm."

"Must make for some tension." 

"Nah...I know the brat gets her way. I just keep quiet about it."

"You're a good brother. I don't know if I'd be able to do that. Too opinionated, I suppose, from being an only child and all."

Thorin dunked his long spoon in his malt glass, smiling. "So...kiddo...you got yourself a girlie tucked away?"

That was the last thing Bilbo expected Thorin to ask him! He sputtered and coughed as he tried not to choke to death on his soda. "Who, me?" 

Thorin handed him his water glass. "Yeah you."

"No." Bilbo shook his head emphatically, taking the water gratefully. "I guess it's like you said, I just don't have much luck in that department."

"Why not? You're a good-lookin' guy."

Bilbo's heart stopped. 

( _It's not what you want to think! He's just being nice! He's just being a friend! Nothing more, got it?_ )

"That's awfully nice of you to say." He said with his eyes glued to his soda. "But...I, uh, really don't have time for that sort of thing. What with school...and mom..."

Thorin let go of his spoon, letting it settle in his malt, and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "How is your mom? Is she doin' okay?"

"About the same." Bilbo's poor heart had restarted, but was now swelling at the look of concern on Thorin's face. Why did he have to go and be so... _perfect_? "No worse, which is always good. Thank you for asking. You know, Evie hasn't once asked how me how mom's doing...and she's her niece."

Thorin reached out and wrapped his hand around Bilbo's forearm and squeezed. "You need to find yourself some better friends." 

For a second there Bilbo thought, with the warmth and strength of Thorin's hand on his arm, that maybe...just maybe...Thorin was going to say something like, _Why don't you hang out with me and the fellas? We won't treat you like a dirty wad of gum stuck to the bottom of our shoe._ But he didn't. He only squeezed again before letting go and returning to his side of the booth. Taking a sip of his soda, Bilbo tried to ignore the puddle of disappointment pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I figure I will, eventually."

Thorin was beginning to feel kind of helpless as he watched Bilbo, what with him looking so small and alone on his side of the table. He wanted to get up and slide in the booth next to him, wrap his arm around his shoulders and tell him that everything was going to be ok. _I'm your friend, arent' I?_ he wanted to say. And maybe something else, though he wasn't entirely sure what it would be. If they had been someplace else, he would've. Someplace with not so many looky-loos around. But not there. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass the kid by such a display. All he could do was watch Bilbo sip his soda. Thankfully Carol chose that time to deliver their fries. 

"Alright, boys, which one of you wants this." Carol looked from one to the other, wondering what could've made them both go so glum so quick.

Bilbo, his straw still in his mouth, pointed at Thorin.

Thorin slumped back in his seat, making a show of his fake chagrin. "Awww Come on! Don't be like that, man."

"You did eat most of my fries last week." Bilbo mumbled petulantly, but Thorin didn't miss the mischief in the kid's eyes. 

"Did I? Nobody told me to keep count." Thorin held steady as Bilbo locked eyes with him. So it was going to be a staring contest now, was it? He'd held out against some of the toughest customers around, so outlasting one spoiled little runt was going to be a cake walk. And he could see the kid was fighting a grin. Now, if only his own face would stop trying so hard to smile.

 _Boys!_ Carol sighed silently to herself. What these two needed was to go outside, run around, play a game - or otherwise - just to release some of whatever it was that was building up between them. The air over the table was beginning to get thick. "I'll just put these right here in the middle." 

Bilbo, very reluctantly, tore his eyes away from Thorin's, his heart pumping blood like mad, the surface of his skin tingling. He apologized and thanked the waitress. "And I apologize on behalf of my unmannered companion." He added, earning himself a kick under the table. Not a painful kick, but contact was most definitely made. "Ow," he muttered, under his breath, as he made a grab for the ketchup bottle, Carol chuckled as she walked away from the table. Twisting the cap off the bottle, Bilbo tipped it over the plate and asked, "How much?"

"Go ahead and douse 'em if you want." Thorin leaned back and tried to regain his ever-cool composure, but something was going on, inside himself. What it was he didn't know, but it was making him feel kinda antsy, like the booth, all of a sudden, had gotten to be too tight a squeeze for him. If he hadn't had a sister to pick up and take home, he might've suggested that they get out of there, away from people and the city and everything. Instead, he watched Bilbo pat the bottom of the bottle, the dark red condiment plopping out all over the golden brown fries. "What's your story going to be about?" He asked, needing to distract himself from his inner-thoughts and remembering their earlier conversation.

"Oh...so you _are_ writing a book!" Bilbo gasped as he recapped the ketchup, resurrecting their joke from the previous week.

"Yeah. You know what, Bilbs? I think I'm going to do that. It'll be all about how I knew you way back when, before you got too famous to eat French fries with a working-class stiff like me."

Bilbo _thunk'd_ the bottle down on the table. "Don't say that! I'm not that kind of person. I could never..." How much more should he say? He looked at Thorin, who seemed to be waiting for him to finish whatever he was about to blurt out. And he realized that there was something about Thorin...a certain quality about him...that seemed to demand honesty. It was right there in his eyes...the set of his jaw...the ghost of a smile on his lips. "I will never forget you, Thorin Durin."

Bilbo's words, wrapped up in a heart-felt earnestness that seemed to radiate from the kid in waves, made Thorin's throat tighten with an odd emotion he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before. He couldn't even put a name to it. It was strong but it was good...a real happy feeling. _It's called friendship, you big lug!_ he reminded himself. And this funny little kid was a keeper. He picked up the longest fry on the plate and pointed it at Bilbo, the floppy, ketchup-covered length of deep-fried potato making them both laugh. "Good! 'Cause I plan on stickin' around. Somebody's got to watch out for you."

Bilbo grabbed the end of the fry and pulled, breaking it in two and getting ketchup all over his fingers. "I think I'll let you." He said, before shoving the fry, followed by a couple more, in his mouth.

"Now, tell me about your story."

"Only if you promise not to laugh. It's just an idea right now."

"Promise." Thorin rested back in his seat and listened as Bilbo told him his idea about a strange boy who had gone and fallen in love with the sun. The sun gave this boy so much; warmth, light...she made the trees green and the flowers bloom. This glorious sun was so brilliant he couldn't even look at her, but he loved her all the same. 

"And then what happened?" Thorin asked, dying to know how this poor schmuck was going to solve his crazy dilemma. "Did he get over it or something?"

Bilbo shrugged and took a sip from his soda, sucking up the last bit of strawberry-flavored fizz and cream. "I don't know. I haven't gotten that far. That's why it's still just an idea." What he didn't tell him was that the whole thing was a metaphor for what happens when one falls in love with someone so alive and wonderful but so far away. Love unattainable and unrequited. No...it was best that he left that part out.

"I like it! You'll let me know how it ends, won't ya?"

"Sure, if you want."

"I do. Hey, since you got the writing bug and all I was wondering..." 

Bilbo looked up from cleaning his glasses. "What were you wondering?"

Thorin always thought it was funny how different a person could look when they didn't have their glasses on. And even though he'd seen Bilbo without his specs before he couldn't help thinking that he was just then seeing another part of him. Something private that very few people got to see or, at least, paid any attention to. And for some reason he thought that, for him, it was quite a privilege. "I was wondering," he traced his finger through some water left behind on the table from his water glass. "Would you be willing to help out a friend with a writing assignment?"

"For school? You bet!" Bilbo continued rubbing at his lenses, thrilled that Thorin had asked him because this meant he would get to spend time with him without having to come up with a reason to do so. Oh...this was just the best!

"I don't expect you to write it or anything like that just...you know...give it the once over...see what you think." Thorin explained, making sure Bilbo understood he wasn't being asked to cheat. "If I can land at least a **B** in English, than maybe I can graduate with something to really show for all the time I've had to spend in lockdown. Sure would tickle the heck out of ma to see her boy come out ahead."

"At least a **B**? I'm afraid it'll be an **A** or nothing, Mr. Durin." Bilbo slid his glasses back on, affecting a haughty demeanor. 

"So you'll help me?"

"Of course I will, silly! It'd be an honor."

"I can help you with your math homework...in exchange...if you need it. Math's my strong subject.'

"You have got yourself a deal!" Bilbo reached across the table, his hand open. Thorin took it and they shook. Bilbo didn't want to let go, that big, slightly rough hand holding his was the sort that dreams were made of! 

"That's great! We can start next week..."

"Wednesday?"

"Wednesday's our day, huh?"

Bilbo nearly fell over in his seat. First there was "our table", now "our day"? Did this guy have any idea what he was doing to this poor boy's heart? "It sure is." His voice sounded borderline breathless. "Want to meet in the library?"

"In your regular napping spot?"

"Ha ha...what a laugh, funny guy!" Bilbo grabbed a french fry, fully intending to chuck it at Thorin but, not wanting to waste a perfectly good fry, popped it in his mouth, making Thorin laugh. And when he quieted, Bilbo noticed the juke had gone quiet as well. Dropping another dime in, he selected a song. E-5. The mechanism that chose the record began to whir and a couple seconds later the song started. A guitar began to strum as if it were being played by a melancholy cowboy. The boys sat, eating french fries, and listened.

_There's a place where lovers go_  
_To cry their troubles away_  
_And they call it Lonesome Town_  
_Where the broken hearts stay_

Thorin looked across the table at his friend. He was a good-looking kid, just like he'd said. Cute, even. "You in Lonesome Town, kiddo?" He asked, tenderly.

Bilbo's chest tightened instantly. And instantly he knew. He knew in that moment, right then and there, that he was officially, fully and completely, madly in love with Thorin Durin. He looked deep into those blue eyes that were looking right back at him. Picking up a French fry, he dragged it back and forth in a puddle of ketchup. "I was. But that was then."

Thorin looked into Bilbo's green eyes and smiled, a light burning bright in his chest. "Good. Let's keep it that way. By the way, you got a smudge of ketchup..." And he pointed at the corner of his own mouth. 

Bilbo blushed as he shoved the French fry in his mouth and wiped the ketchup off. He wasn't embarrassed, though. If he was going to get ketchup all over his face, there was no one he would rather be with.

_In the town of broken dreams_  
_The streets are filled with regret_  
_Maybe down in Lonesome Town_  
_I can learn to forget_

++++++++

**Saturday, October 4, 1958...Malibu Beach**

There were few things, Bilbo was of the opinion, that one could experience in life, that were quite as magnificent as the sound of waves crashing on the shore. He rested his chin atop his knees, closed his eyes, breathed in the clean, salty air, and _listened_. There was something almost...magic...about being at the beach. No matter how many transistor radios were playing...no matter that some fellas from UCLA were engaged in a spirited game of beach volleyball nearby...no matter that Evie's exaggerated "Oh TOGGIE!" was slicing through the air like a knife...no matter what, nothing could drown out the sound of the largest ocean on the planet, right there at the very edge of the continent. The beach...any beach...was one of Bilbo's favorite places to be and he sighed, contentedly.

It would've had to have been a beach trip to get Bilbo to agree to spend a Saturday with Evie and her gang. They had all been invited by a friend of a friend...some swell girl by the name of Barbie Dahl whose parents had a house right there on the beach. Bilbo figured his invitation had been at the insistence of Uncle Hildibrand, rather than born of Evie's largesse, which was just fine. He was perfectly content, keeping to himself on his oversized terry cloth island. He had brought a book, his sunglasses, and a bottle of Coppertone to help keep his pale skin from burning in the Southern California sun. With an enormous beach umbrella propped open like a little tent, he sat on his towel and appreciated all of the sights and sounds the beach offered. 

And what sights! Everywhere he looked, handsome young men, wearing not much more than their colorful swim trunks and deep, golden tans, were engaged in a number of athletic activities; from the college boys playing volleyball to the daring hot-doggers, hanging ten on their longboards out on the surf, as well as groups of kids, guys and girls, tossing those flying frisbee discs around, there was always something nice to look at. One of those discs had landed in the sand, right beside him, and he had gotten up off his towel to retrieve it. As he had watched the owner of the disc run towards him, a regular muscle-bound Mr. Universe-type if he had ever seen one, Bilbo imagined sending the disc flying...expertly thrown, of course...so that it landed right in the fella's hand! For that he'd get a smile, maybe a wink, and an offer to come join in the fun. So, with a flick of his wrist, off he sent it sailing. It flew a little high, and the guy had to jump to grab it, which Bilbo didn't mind witnessing. But, instead of an invite to join in, he got a friendly wave, a sunny smile, and a "thanks, dude!" before the guy ran back to his friends. Oh well, at least the backside view had been as nice as the front. 

Sitting back down on his towel, Bilbo looked out at the waves. He wondered what Thorin was doing at that moment. _Probably working at the garage_ , he thought to himself. It had only been a week since he'd seen Thorin there, in those coveralls with the embroidered name patch sewn on. He smiled hard, biting his lower lip, thinking about his friend. He would've wagered his entire inheritance that there was not a single guy on that beach who was as kind, generous, funny, and heart-achingly handsome as Thorin. That was a sure bet! From then on, every guy he looked at became Thorin. He could see him on the volleyball court, jumping in the air with those long, powerful legs of his as he pummeled the ball with his fist, sending it screaming over the net. Thorin was also out there, riding the surf, his wet hair gleaming blue in the sun as he caught every wave, never once wiping out. And he was the Frisbee tossing boy, but it would be Bilbo who he was tossing the disc to and it was Bilbo who caught it every time. All of this imagining of Thorin, wearing not much of anything at all and being the perfect specimen of manhood that he was, was having an unsurprising but inconvenient affect on a part of the the poor boy's anatomy. Pulling the too big terry cloth beach shirt he'd borrowed from Jimmy down, under his bum, he pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his chin on them, closed his eyes, and listened to the calming sound of the waves crashing on the beach.

+

Evie jumped up and down and screamed. "Pull, Toggie! PULL!!!"

Togo, to his credit, was pulling with all he had, but these beach bum friends of Barbie's had to have the secret of some kind of super strength. With one last, mighty heave, the beach boys brought Togo and his pals flying forward, faces full of sand being their only reward for losing at tug of war. Evie went to run to Togo's side, but that Serena chick...the girl Togo told her he _had_ to take to homecoming...something about her being the daughter of one of his father's work associates or something...got there first. It made Evie sick to watch this girl fawn over _her_ Toggie, brushing the sand off his face and his bare, bronzed shoulders...

Not one to make a scene, and having a healthy sense of self-preservation, Evie looked about, pretending that she was much too captivated by all of the healthy examples of the male form that were scattered about the beach. That was when her eyes skated over the crumpled form of her pathetic cousin Bilbo. She would've sworn he had spent the entirety of their time at the beach squirreled away under his ridiculously huge umbrella, as if he was scared of the sun or something. Considering how blinding white his skin was, he was probably doing everyone a favor by staying out of the sun. What a bore! But then she remembered a conversation she had had with her dad the other day...the day she had told him that Togo was taking that slimy Serena to homecoming. Daddy had suggested that she ask Bilbo to go with her to the dance.

"What? Please tell me you're kidding, daddy!"

But daddy _hadn't_ been kidding. Daddy had been dead serious, and he had explained to his precious, darling Evendím how her taking Bilbo to homecoming, letting her cousin experience such an important high school tradition (because, lord knows, the sorry little thing surely wouldn't be able to land a _real_ date on his own) could only improve her standing with Granny Took. 

(Never forget, Evendím... _trust fund_ )

Looking back at Toggie, Serena draped over his shoulders like a rug with a serious overbite, Evie's heart bubbled over when he winked at her. He was still her guy, no matter how many other girls he told her he _had_ to go out with. 

(Why was it that every father expected their sons to date every work associate's daughter?)

That was it, then! She would ask Bilbo to go to homecoming with her! It really was a brilliant answer to her problem, she was going to have to remember to thank daddy later. Bilbo as a date meant that _A_...she would get to go to homecoming with someone who wasn't her Toggie without having to fend off any unwanted advances and _B_...ditching Bilbo to go have some real fun would be a piece of cake. I mean...just look at him! A puny little lump of blah, sitting on his beach towel...is he reading? Evie planted her hands on her hips and shook her head in disgust. What a girl had to do these days just to go to homecoming!

Taking a deep breath, she steeled her resolve. She'd march right over there and, putting on her best sugar-and-cream act, she'd convince Bilbo that he really did want to take her to homecoming. She'd also have a little talk with him about that Durin person who had the nerve to actually speak to her the other day, looking for him for what reason heaven only knew! He was not the sort of person that people like her and her cousin should ever have to associate with. Bilbo was sure to understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **song credits**  
> [ _Lollipop_](https://youtu.be/3rYoRaxgOE0)  
>  written by Julius DIxon and Beverly Ross, 1958
> 
> [ _Peggy Sue_](https://youtu.be/bfu_gfPBPWc)  
>  written by Buddy Holly, Jerry Allison, and Norman Petty, 1957
> 
> [ _Lonesome Town_](https://youtu.be/uN7mjvok6MI)  
>  written by Baker Knight, 1958 
> 
> All of you [_Grease_](https://youtu.be/SFAwSqK3SdQ) fans will recognize [ "brusha, brusha, brusha"](https://youtu.be/nB7fJYyPTko) from the slumber party scene! 
> 
> Seeburg was a popular brand of jukebox. The 1953 model held 50 records/played 100 songs. [In this video](https://youtu.be/T5Pgfh5-nu0), a guy talks about his jukebox, which has a wall/table top selector and you get to see it in action. I love watching the mechanism select the record!
> 
> During the 58/59 school year, the Creative Writing Club at Pasadena High School put out its very first literary anthology.
> 
> It wouldn't have struck anyone as funny for a girl to have a name like Barbie Dahl in October of 1958. The first [Barbie Doll](https://youtu.be/9hhjjhYGQtY) was still about 7 months away.
> 
> Beach volleyball dates back to 1915, born on the beaches of Waikiki and the flying disc, which first made an appearance in 1938, wasn't dubbed "frisbee" until 1957.
> 
> Again, I want to to thank everyone who's sticking with me on this journey!!! Every comment and kudo and message on tumblr is so appreciated! I hope everyone is having an awesome summer! This has been one hell of a rocky year...and it's only half way over! Take care of yourselves!! :D


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/upWT9XY)
> 
> _If real life were like the movies, Bilbo would've been the little wooden boy with a cricket in a top hat sitting on his shoulder, reminding him of all the promises he had made to his grandmother before this night. **No smoking. No drinking. You will comport yourself like a gentleman and no trouble shall come to you.**_
> 
> _But a handsome pirate was holding a bottle out to him. And this wasn't the movies._
> 
>  
> 
> _"You know I...I've never had one before but...Yeah! I'd love to!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are...chapter 17! The last flashback chapter! This one was fun for me because I got to spend a little time in the 1920s which is one of my favorite eras. 
> 
> The only new tags for this chapter are _cross-dressing_ and _teen drunkeness_ which, for the record, I don't condone. 
> 
> And just a reminder, this chapter takes place exactly one week before the boys discover how much fun the backseat of a car can be.

For Adamanta Took, back in those bright and shining days, the world had been her oyster. And that, of course, could only mean Oysters Rockefeller, served on the half-shell with cold champagne. So much champagne! There had been so much booze flowing back in those days one had a tendency to forget there was a constitutional amendment forbidding sale of the stuff...but not consumption and boy! Did they ever consume! Life had been one big party back then, during what the historians had amusingly dubbed the "Roaring Twenties", and with her flaming red hair and heart-shaped face, Ada had been the belle of the ball. 

The glittering personification of the wild and gay spirit that ruled the decade, Ada could be found at all the best parties, particularly those thrown in the cozy colony of Hollywood, home of the burgeoning young motion picture industry. Chaplin, Fairbanks, Pickford, Swanson, Keaton...anyone who was anyone...and so many more who wanted to be someone...could be found at these shindigs, really living it up, like there wasn't going to be a tomorrow. Anything and everything went in those days, but as long as you had that winning combination of good sense, a lot of luck, and even more money and kept your name out of the scandal rags, the party never had to end. 

Everyone who knew her swore that Ada had been born under a lucky star. She would say her luck began the day she met her dear Gerry. Gerontious Took, back in 1906, had been a youth of 18 without a penny to his name, but a never ending supply of ambition, making his way west to find his fortune. The night he met 16-year old Ada Chubb, performing in an amateur theatrical, while on a stopover in her hometown of Omaha, was the night, he would later tell friends, he met the girl of his dreams. She found him to be handsome and full of fascinating ideas and by the time the first rays of dawn's light crept over the Midwestern city, they were on their way to the train station, hand-in-hand, a letter left in her room letting her folks know she would write later to let them know where she was. By the time a friend of the family finally tracked them down, the impetuous kids were married and living in a small bungalow by the beach, their first child only a month away from greeting the world. The bungalow eventually gave way to a larger home to accommodate the children that kept coming, as well as to celebrate the great wealth they were accumulating in land and oil deals. Then, in 1917, to celebrate their ten year anniversary, Gerontious gave her a magnificent gift, a veritable mansion, built in the modern style, up in the hills over-looking Pasadena, on a quaint little tree-lined lane. From that moment, Ada made it one of her missions to make the impressive house one of the finest homes in Southern California.

Family life suited Ada just fine, but the times were changing. In 1918, the Great War had finally come to an end and, it seemed, everyone wanted to celebrate. The newspapers were touting the arrival of "The New Woman" and Ada was right there, the first in her neck of the high society woods to bob her hair, smoke in public, and hike up her hemlines. She could often be seen tooling around Pasadena behind the wheel of a sporty roadster, a new one for every year, with one of "her boys", the tightly knit group of men she had befriended. These men had come to Los Angeles with dreams of their own. They were set decorators, costume designers, actors, writers, composers, and they all shared the desire for other men and the longing for a community where they could live their lives with some semblance of freedom. These were the men who's company Ada preferred, for they were creative, charming, intelligent, and had no interest in getting into her knickers. It was with these men that Gerontious Took trusted his wife when, between giving him fat, healthy babies, she hit the town, living it up. If she wasn't at one of the wild bohemian Hollywood parties, dancing the night away, she could be found holed up in one of the bars downtown that catered to the demimonde, where all the best colored musicians played the red hot, jumped-up jazz she loved so much.

+

**Saturday, November 1, 1958...around noon at Acorn Lane**

Ada held the dress up. _Scandalous_! It was barely enough richly-beaded black silk to be considered decent and she had seen many a night in it, a small silver flask tucked in her stocking, dancing the Black Bottom until she'd been fit to collapse. Sunlight streamed in through the attic window, glittering off the gold and silver bugle beads that were becoming tarnished with age. She could almost hear the band that had been playing the last time she'd worn it, some time in 1929 it was, right before the big crash and the party had ended, not for good, but the times would never be the same. She sighed.

"Was that yours?" Bilbo asked. He'd been rummaging in a trunk of his grandfather's old suits, but stopped to admire the frock his grandmother was holding up. She had told him stories about her "flapper" days, and he'd seen pictures, but he hadn't seen a relic of the era quite like that dress.

"It was. Can you believe it? Oh...I was shameless hussy!" She shook her head. "Your grandfather was a saint to let me out of the house in this." A swelling of emotion threatened to choke her. Her darling Gerry had been gone five years and a day hadn't passed that she didn't miss him something terrible. Her smile was bittersweet, "He was a saint."

Bilbo went to his grandmother's side to get a better look at the gown. "He knew he was the luckiest man on earth." 

Ada looked at her grandson, standing beside her, eyes wide with curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that she'd walked into her daughter's hospital room and laid eyes on the most beautiful baby she'd ever seen, even more beautiful than any of her own children. With curls of spun gold and skin like fine porcelain, he had looked to her like one of Raphael's _putti_ , a cherub straight from heaven. And, when she had held him in her arms, he had looked at her with big blue eyes that had seemed much too wise for a newborn to have. She remembered how radiant Bella had been, despite the exhaustion of a 12-hour labor and Bungo had been ecstatic. "That's my boy!" had been all that he'd been able to say, as if it were the greatest miracle, for much of the day. It had been a wonderful time for the young family and those days had lasted for...well...they had lasted for a few, good years. Which, she figured, was more than a lot of people got, but not nearly what they had deserved. She let Bilbo take the gown from her.

"You are too sweet, my darling." And she laughed as Bilbo held it up to himself and did a simple Charleston. 

"It's too bad girls don't wear dresses like these, anymore." Bilbo opined, captivated by the way the beaded fringe shimmied. "I would think it'd be an absolute kick to dance in and it's so much prettier than what they wear today. Don't you think?"

"Clothes fit the time, darling. We were more...audacious...back then. Rebellious. People today are too..."

Bilbo stopped dancing and looked at his grandmother. "They've all got their heads buried in the sand."

"You think so?"

"I do. All they seem to want to do and be is what everyone else does and is...whatever the ads on television tell them they should be. I just don't understand how they can choose to be so complacent when there is still so much that needs to change."

Ada laid a hand, tenderly, on her grandson's cheek. "It never ceases to amaze me."

"What's that?" 

"The inexhaustible restlessness of youth." She patted his cheek just as a wild idea popped into her head. Walking to a large mahogany wardrobe, she opened the door and pulled out one of a dozen old cardboard shoe boxes. Inside was a pair of green silk pumps that had belonged to a cousin who had had slightly bigger feet than herself. "How would you like to put on a little show for your mother?"

"Huh? What kind of show?" 

Ada pulled a shoe out of the box. "These should fit you, don't you think?"

Bilbo couldn't nod fast enough.

+

"Here you go, Mrs. Baggins. Careful, the cup is hot." The nurse handed the tea cup to Bella, who took it with gratitude. At this late stage in her ordeal, there was little that gave her any pleasure, outside of the people she loved, but the green tea's grassy scent never failed to work its calming magic on her, whisking her, mind and soul, back to a happier time. She settled against her mountain of propped-up pillows and took a sip just as there was a knock on her door. She nodded to the nurse who opened it. Her mother's silver-framed face popped into view.

"Bella, my darling, are you able to receive visitors?" She asked, excitedly.

Bella lowered her cup. "Visitors? I'm not sure...who is it? I'm afraid I didn't get around to putting on a face this morning..."

"You have a gorgeous face, Bell! I think there's someone here you should meet." And, opening the door wide, Ada stepped out of the way and in walked a beautiful young girl who looked like she'd just stepped out of one of those flapper movies from the silent era, like the ones starring the "It" girl, Clara Bow; lips painted into a ruby red Cupid's bow, rouged cheeks, black kohl around the eyes, and thick, fluttering lashes. A long, single strand of pearls was wrapped around her neck and hung down low over the slinky dress and a band of rhinestones circled her blonde curls. The illusion was so good, Bella thought, that it really was only the half-dozen newly arrived hairs on her son's chest that gave him away. She clapped her hands over her mouth to contain the squeal of delight that tore from her as she watched Bilbo walk gracefully towards her, never once stumbling in the high-heeled pumps...not even while performing a full twirl, the fringe along the hemline flying out and slapping and wrapping itself around his knees. Bella laughed, clapping her hands.

"Whaddya think, moms? Do I make a pretty girl?" Bilbo asked as he swung the end of the string of pearls with a black-gloved hand, his other hand on his hip.

"Oh, sweetheart...you're absolutely...you're taking my breath away! Oh...turn around again, please...let me look..."

"This was grandma's idea, the whole thing. Isn't it nuts?" Bilbo turned around slowly, being careful not to make a mis-step and stumble in those heels. He was loving it! From the second grandma'd suggested this little lark, he'd been the most willing participant, sitting as still as he could as she painted his face and picking out the jewelry himself. He especially loved the diamond and onyx cuff now wrapped around his wrist.

"It's wonderful! Oh mom...this is just...he...she looks wonderful!" It came as no surprise to Bella that her mother had instigated this masquerade, making her son up in the image of a young woman, thirty years out of time. She had faint memories of those days, when she was small, of her mother, wearing that very gown. She had been so beautiful. "Is this going to be your costume for tonight?"

Bilbo laid his hands on his chest, shaking his head. "Oh no...I don't exactly have what it takes to fill the dress out."

Ada came up, beside her grandson. "You know, I would've given just about _anything_ to have been as flat-chested as you, but after 12 babies...I was just lucky I kept my figure!"

"I would like to go to a party dressed like this, one day. Even if just to shock people." 

"Don't worry, my darling," Ada laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "The day will come. You'll know all the right people and go to all of the right parties. I promise you. So, how about a song for your mama?"

"Oh, am I getting a performance?" Bella clapped her hands together as her mother ran to the phonograph player to pop the record on and Bilbo got into position. 

"Yes! Oh, mom, you're going to love this!"

There was the scratch of a needle on old vinyl and then...

  
_Whadda you do in the evening_  
_When you don't know what to do?_  
_Read a book?_  
_Play a game?_  
_Every night it's just the same!_  


  
_Whadda you say if I tell you_  
_How to keep from feeling blue?_  
_My advice is good to take,_  
_And it's easier to do!_  


  
_When you're all alone, any old night,_  
_And you're feeling mighty blue,_  
_Pick up your hat,_  
_Close up your flat,_  
_Get out, get under the moon._  


Instantly, Bella was taken back, way back, back to when she'd been young and still had her health and her husband and her little boy had just grown out of babyhood and into a non-stop bundle of curious energy. She had often sung this song to Bilbo as they sat on the living room rug, surrounded by dolls and blocks and toy trucks. And now he was singing it to her, doing a fair imitation of Helen Kane's squeaky "Boop" and a darling little dance to go along with it. She never ceased being proud of the intelligent, talented, brave man her boy was growing up to be. If only she could see him through it all...

When the tune was over, Bilbo curtsied daintily as his mother and grandmother clapped with gusto. "Brava!" Bella shouted. "Brava! And what is the chanteuse's name?"

Bilbo looked thoughtful for a second. "Petunia! It would have to be! Miss Petunia Baggins. Seems only right, since Daisy is already taken."

Bella and Ada laughed. Yes, Petunia was perfect.

"Come here, Petunia," Bella called for her son to come sit by her so she could kiss his face and he hugged her as tight as he could without hurting her. "I love you, flower bud."

Bilbo kissed his mother's cheek, leaving a perfect red heart of lipstick behind on her pale skin. "I love you, moms." 

"Well, my loves," Ada was there, at her daughter's bedside, "I hate to spoil the moment, but we do need to get the jacket taken in so you can wear it tonight."

"Still dressing up as Charlie?" Bella asked her boy.

"Mmm hmm...We found an old tux of grandpa's that's going to look perfect. Shoes too. They're huge!" Bilbo had been looking forward to going to the Halloween party as silent-film star Charlie Chaplin, he'd even spent the past week practicing the Little Tramp's signature walk until grandma proclaimed it "spot on". What he wasn't so thrilled about was that he'd be going as a guest of Evie's, but maybe...just maybe...he would meet someone new and interesting. Anything can happen when it's Halloween. Ada was already at the door when Bilbo gave his mother one last kiss before hopping off the bed and running to join his grandmother, heels clicking across the floor.

"Can I show Jimmy before I take this off?" Was the last thing Bella heard before the door closed, leaving her alone with the nurse who had been watching from a chair in the corner.

"Your son is something Mrs. Baggins! That sure was fun to watch!" 

"He is, isn't he?" She laughed. "Reminds me so much of his father when we first met."

"Was Mr. Baggins a performer?"

"No...he...no." Bella shook his head.

"Well, that boy sure is one to be proud of, ma'am."

"Yes, he is." Bella agreed, wishing she knew that his father would've thought the same. "Yes he is."

++++++++

**Saturday, November 1, 1958...10:00 p.m. Somewhere in the hills above Pasadena.**

The four-wheeled hunk of junk came to a clunky, jolting stop. Nori smacked his hands against the steering wheel. "Will ya look at that, fellas! We have arrived!"

Thorin took one look at the grand, palatial house they were parked in front of and groaned, slumping down in the seat. Why had he agreed to this? His only alternative had been to sit home with mama and pick at his physics homework, but that now seemed a hell of a lot more fun than crashing some rich asshole's party. He'd have to remember to slug Dwalin for falling in love and getting invited to a "couples only" gathering thrown by one of Sherilyn's friends. 

"I'm telling you...the tomatoes are ripe and plentiful! Come on!" Nori pushed the squeaky, creaky car door open and hopped out. This was going to be great! He'd overheard a couple of real gone girls at McDonald's the night before, talking about this blast-out that was going to be happening, up in the hills. And, from where he was standing, they hadn't been kidding! The place was jumping! Every window blazed with light and there were kids...so many kids...they were spilling out of the front door, covering the manicured lawn, and the music was loud!

Thorin hopped reluctantly out of the backseat and stood next to Bofur, who was ready and rarin' to see these dames Nori had been promising all day at the garage. 

"Doesn't look like many people dressed up." Bofur pointed out as he plopped a cowboy hat on his head. 

"All's the better, don't you see? We'll be more inconspicuous that way!" Nori slid his mask in place and pulled on his black watch cap, the finishing touches to his bandit costume. The black and white striped shirt he painted himself.

"How the hell do you figure that?" Thorin grumbled as he flipped his eye patch down over his left eye. He might not exactly be inconspicuous, being the only guy there over six feet tall dressed as a pirate, but hopefully the get-up would make it harder for folks to put a name to the face. 

Nori only answered him with one of his toothy grins, the kind Dwalin was always threatening to punch out. Thorin sucked up his intestinal fortitude and followed his friends up to the front door.

+

  
_Stupid Cupid you're a real mean guy_  
_I'd like to clip your wings so you can't fly_  
_I'm in love and it's a crying shame_  
_And I know that you're the one to blame_  
_Hey hey, set me free_  
_Stupid Cupid stop picking on me_  


Bilbo popped a handful of salty, crunchy Chex party mix in to his mouth. At least the food was decent, and the music, but otherwise the party, for him, was a total bust. He wasn't surprised, nothing that involved cousin Evie and her group of friends surprised him anymore. It had all begun when he, with Jimmy behind the wheel, had picked her up at her house, at 8 p.m. sharp. After all of her going on, the past week, about it being a Halloween party, she wasn't even wearing a costume, just one of her party dresses.

"How come you didn't dress up?" He asked, beginning to feel just a bit silly for having spent so much time getting his own costume together.

"I dressed up! Don't you know Sandra Dee when you see her?" Evie pulled out her compact to study her carefully made-up face. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Bilbo met Jimmy's dumbfounded gaze in the rear view mirror. He pressed his fingers to the little mustache glued to his upper lip. "I'm supposed to be Charlie Chaplin." 

"Oh...yeah..." Evie glanced at him quickly before snapping her compact shut and slipping it into her clutch, "I suppose. I'm glad you left your glasses at home."

"Everything's a little blurry..."

"You look better without them. You should get contact lenses." And that was the end of the conversation for the rest of the trip to the party, which was more than fine with Bilbo. Evie was quiet, except for when she asked Jimmy to turn off the radio because "this jungle music is giving me a headache." On arrival, she sat and waited for Jimmy to open her door and give her a hand out. Bilbo let himself out and watched as Evie sashayed up to the front door, not once turning to see if he was coming. 

"Come on, bud. I'll take you home...you don't need this scene." Jimmy wrapped an arm around Bilbo's shoulder and spoke softly into his ear.

"I'd love to but...I would never hear the end of it. I have to do this." Bilbo looked up at the house. Two guys in matching varsity sweaters and crew cuts were standing on the lawn, chugging beer, and cat-calling every girl that walked by. His heart sank down to his feet.

"Well...you know..." Jimmy gave an encouraging squeeze, "It is Halloween...anything can happen. Maybe your Prince Charming will magically appear and whisk you away..." He let Bilbo go and watched the boy pull the black bowler down over his wayward curls. Oh, if only he were 15 years younger. "You look great, buddy boy. Promise me you'll call if you need to get out of here sooner than later, all right? I'll be right next to the phone..."

"I'll be fine." Bilbo forced a smile. He was more than ready to jump back in the car, but there was no way he was going to start running away from uncomfortable situations, especially ones like this. "Thank you, Jim. I'll see you at midnight."

"Right on the nose...I'll be here."

Bilbo pulled himself up and walked, head held high, to the front door. He ignored the snickers that followed after him, curtesy of the varsity twins. Once inside, it quickly became clear to him that he was on his own for the evening, Evie nowhere to be seen. He was also the only person in costume, which left him sticking out like a sore thumb in a baggy black suit and oversized shoes. He found his way to a long, folding table, which had been draped in a black and orange paper tablecloth dotted with grinning Jack O'Lanterns and sickly green witch faces and was covered with bowls and platters of finger foods. And it was near this table that Bilbo stayed, sampling the Swedish meatballs and finding them some of the best he'd ever had. Every once in a while he'd see a face he recognized, usually a girl from one of his classes. She'd be slow to recognize him, but when she did, she'd smile, say "hi", compliment him on his costume and lament about how she had been planning on dressing up, but, "you know how these things go. Well, it was nice running into you like this. I guess I'll be seein' you in class on Monday. Bye." And he'd be left alone with the deviled eggs and the punch bowl.

This was where he was when his eyes lit on someone interesting, moving through the crowd. This person was tall and dressed something like a pirate; red bandana tied around his head, a blue and red plaid shit worn out over his jeans and belted, a lone hoop earring clamped to his ear lobe. When the guy turned towards him, his heart did a somersault with a half-twist . The guy had a dark beard...the jaw...nose...

( _Maybe your Prince Charming will magically appear_...)

Oh! If only he weren't wearing an eye patch, then Bilbo would know for certain that it was...

Thorin flipped his eye patch up to get a better look. It was the kid, all right. Even without his glasses and decked in full Charlie Chaplin regalia, pale face with eyes ringed in black, goofy little 'stache, baggy suit, bowler hat, cane...there was no mistaking Bilbo Baggins. Thorin wondered if he'd ever before been happier to see anyone in his whole life. He couldn't help laughing at his friend who was squinting hard right at him.

"Am I in focus yet?"

Bilbo couldn't help breaking out in a huge smile. "I'm afraid this is as clear as you're going to get."

"Where're your glasses?"

"The Little Tramp didn't wear 'em." Bilbo beamed. His cheeks were beginning to hurt, but that didn't matter. Thorin was there, standing in front of him. "You are such a sight for blurry eyes! Not that I'm complaining but, what the heck are you doing here?"

"I've been trying to figure that out myself, but now I'm not so sorry I came. You look really great, kiddo! You put this all together yourself?"

"No...grandma helped me out." Bilbo bent his knees, turned out his feet, and did the little shuffle that had been one of Mr. Chaplin's signatures. Twitching his funny little mustache made Thorin _whoop!_ and clap his hands, causing some kids standing nearby to glare at him.

"You didn't miss a thing, did you? Wow! That's really something!" Thorin gushed, honestly impressed with Bilbo's impersonation. The kid had some real talent.

"I spent the whole week practicing. Seems kind of dumb, now, that I went through all that just for this." Bilbo glanced around the room at the collection of guys and girls, dressed as they would for any old party on any old day, before reaching up to lightly bat at Thorin's ear ring, making it swing back and forth. "You look really good yourself, Cap'n Blackbeard."

"The scourge of the seven seas! Not bad for a last minute job, if I say so myself. Coming here was Nori's bright idea. He told us we had to dress up so..." Thorin shrugged.

"Oh, so Nori's here?" Bilbo asked, suddenly a touch uneasy. He did a quick scan of the room and was relieved to not catch a glimpse of the red-headed rascal.

"Yeah, and Bofur, too. They're around here, somewhere, trying to make some time with the female population."

"And Dwalin?"

Thorin slid his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "Lucky stiff's at a party with Sherilyn. No bachelors allowed."

Bilbo chuckled. "It must be tough when your best friend has a steady."

"More than I thought. What about you? What brought you...wait, l know the answer to this one... Good ol' Ever Dim, wicked bitch of the west. Where is she, anyway?"

Bilbo opened his kohl-lined eyes wide and lifted his shoulders up to his ears in an exaggerated shrug. 

"Ditched ya, huh? Bilbs..."

Bilbo raised a hand and nodded, "I know...new friends. Say...you want something to eat? The food's pretty good."

Thorin looked at the spread, but food wasn't exactly where his mind was. "Got any beer around here?"

Bilbo was quick to nod. "Beer they have in abundance." And he led Thorin to a large tin washtub filled with bottles of suds on ice. 

"Will you have one with me?" Thorin asked as he grabbed one and popped the cap off with a church key tied to the tub.

If real life were like the movies, Bilbo would've been the little wooden boy with a cricket in a top hat sitting on his shoulder, reminding him of all the promises he had made to his grandmother before this night. _No smoking. No drinking. You will comport yourself like a gentleman and no trouble shall come to you._

But a handsome pirate was holding a bottle out to him. And this wasn't the movies.

"You know I...I've never had one before but...Yeah! I'd love to!" Bilbo eagerly accepted the beer from Thorin, an ice cold bottle of Falstaff... 

( _The most refreshing beer a man can pour, yet light enough to leave room for more!_

...and took a tentative sip. 

"Whadda ya think?" Thorin asked after taking a sizable swig from his own bottle. 

"It's not bad. Might take a little getting used to, but..." He took another sip. Nope, not bad at all.

Watching Bilbo become acquainted with his first beer, Thorin thought, had to be up there with watching a kid master his first two-wheeler. This was a milestone in a young man's life, and a pretty momentous one at that. If they had been somewhere else - anywhere else - he would've announced it to everyone in earshot. This was something to celebrate! Then, a roomful of strangers would've raised their own bottles to the boy who was learning the ways of manhood. That would've blown the kid's socks right off! He leaned down to get his mouth closer to Bilbo's ear.

"How about we find some place away from the crowd. It's a bit too stuffy in here for me."

Bilbo pulled the bottle from his lips, nodding. "I know just the place! Follow me, _mio amico_!" He said jovially, the alcohol already starting to make his head feel pleasantly light.

Thorin took a second to fill a paper punch cup with Chex mix before following Bilbo to the sliding glass doors that led to the backyard.

+

"Will ya look at that! The ol' Durin charm at work in record time." Bofur thought as he pushed his cowboy hat back on his head, impressed. He had caught a glimpse of Thorin just in time to spy on him sliding the glass door to the backyard closed. They had only been there a grand total of 15 minutes and his friend had already found a sweet little cutie to work his magic on. "Score one for the team, brother!" Bofur silently cheered. This was an encouraging development. It was well understood amongst the fellas that Thorin had high standards and didn't pick up on just anyone. This meant they were amongst real quality. Hot diggity dog! His stomach rumbled. Mmmm...speaking of hot dogs...

Bofur moseyed on over to the buffet table, his eyes opening wider the closer he got. Talk about impressive! Finger foods, the real fancy kind like the ones his mom made for her Tupperware parties covered the table, as well a big stack of store bought Hostess cupcakes! Wowee! There was everything a growing, 16-year old boy could possibly want! Sidling up to the table, he grabbed a Ritz cracker, eager to top it with a dollop of goodness from a pimento cheese log, when a hand darted out in front of him, reaching for a celery stick stuffed with peanut butter and dotted with raisins. The hand, a delicate little number, was attached to an arm, a thin gold chain, with a dangling heart charm, circled the wrist, and the arm was attached to...

"Sorry," The girl said, smiling right up at him. "I'm just kinda crazy about ants-on-a-log. I don't know why, but they're my favorite thing at parties. Do you like them, ants-on-a-log?"

Bofur found himself face-to-face with the prettiest girl; strawberry blonde with a sweet little pile of pin curls piled on her head, warm, chocolate brown eyes, and round, pink apple cheeks. He'd seen her before, at school, usually walking between classes in the company of her friends, all of them cheerleaders, who were, usually, being trailed by a wild pack of varsity guys. Like wolves after bunnies, the animals!

"I like them just fine, ma'am." Bofur appropriated his most cowboy-like drawl. "I like to have my saddle bags full of 'em when I'm out there, alone on the prairie." 

The girl giggled, charmed by the act that was as cute as the tall, auburn-haired boy doing the acting. "Do you now?"

Bofur bounced his hands on the tops of his toy guns, the same ones he'd had since he was 10, that he had strapped around his waist. "It's true! After a day of roping dogies, that's all I want. You know what I always tell the feller at the saloon? I say, Keep your demon whisky, barkeep! Give me," He picked up a fat stick of celery and gave her a cheeky wink, "ants-on-a-log."

The girl laughed, one of those good, deep, from the belly laughs. She had come to this party with the intention of having a good time while doing her best to avoid the bum, her ex-steady Tommie, who she had broken up with just the day before. Now it looked like a good time was a sure thing with this nice, cute, funny new friend. She held out her hand. "My name's Ellen Slater. What do they call you, cowboy?"

Bofur took the girl's hand and shook, "Bofur Moller's the name, ma'am, I mean, Ellen. Nice to meet ya!"

Ellen shook Bofur's hand. She liked the way his dark eyes shone, all warm and friendly. "I've seen you around, before, you know. At school. Part of the leather jacket crowd, aren't you?"

"A fine group of fellers, I assure you! We may be a little rough around the edges, but under our leather beats hearts of purest gold."

Ellen laid a hand on Bofur's arm, all solid and steady. "Well, _Hopalong Bofur_ , with a heart of gold, why don't you pour us some punch and we'll find a quiet place to get to know one another"

Now, when Nori had first suggested crashing this party, it had been with the promise that the girls would be cute and plentiful. While Bofur had taken Nori's promise with the grain of salt he attached to everything that came out of his fast-talking friend's yapper, he had looked at this evening as an adventure, an opportunity for a glance at how the other side lived, in those big, fancy homes up on the hill. Or, at the very least, a chance at free beer. It looked like he was out of luck as far as brew was concerned, but, as he followed Ellen's gently swaying hourglass figure past kids who were too busy dancing, drinking, and necking to notice the cowboy and the cheerleader walking up the wide, elegant staircase, he had a feeling he really wasn't going to miss it.

+

"And the next thing mom and Auntie Chica knew... _POOF!_...I was gone!" Bilbo waved his hands in the air like an over exuberant magician.

"Disappeared...just like that, huh?" Thorin asked before tipping back his beer, enjoying the hell out of his tipsy friend's run down of Halloweens past.

"Yup! Just like that!" Bilbo nodded his head which was beginning to feel like someone had pumped it full of helium.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" 

"Nope," Bilbo swung his head from side to side. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. Hey!" He swatted a laughing Thorin on the arm, "Halloween only comes once a year, pal! I couldn't wait for some amateur to get his act together." 

"Didn't you say your cousin was 5 at the time?"

Bilbo slapped his hand down on the diving board, hanging out over the glowing swimming pool, on which both he and Thorin were sitting, "That's no excuzz...excuse. No excuse!"

"I don't suppose it would be for you. All-business Baggins." Thorin chuckled softly as he watched his big boots dangle over the light bright white-blue water.

"Exactly! Wait...no! I'm not all business! I know how to have fun..." Bilbo picked his bottle up from where he had safely tucked it, sitting Indian fashion, in his lap. Tipping the bottle back, against his lips, he came to the disappointing conclusion that it was empty. "Oh, whadda ya know! I'm out of bubbly suds." He giggled. "How about I go grab us a couple more..." He began to go through the preliminary movements that could've lead to him standing up, but Thorin quickly put the kibosh on that idea by grabbing a handful of baggy pants.

"Hold on, Charlie...careful...I think you've probably had enough. Don't need you going and getting yourself sick. What would ol' granny say about that?"

"You're right. She would be so mad at me." He put his hand to his mouth and whispered, "I'm not supposed to drink, you know. Nope, nope, nope..." He wagged his finger at Thorin...the same Thorin who had eyes that had gone midnight black like the sky above them. He sighed as he stared at his friend, his lovely friend, his _only_ real friend, his handsome friend, sitting close enough to touch. He thought, for a full, rash second, that the time had come to open his mouth so that all of the words that would tell Thorin exactly how he felt could come boldly, bravely tumbling out and make themselves known, to make himself known, in no uncertain terms, to the boy...to his friend...who he loved...

"Crazy kid," Thorin mumbled through a half-smile. "Ok...I got a story for ya. There was this one time, at Halloween," He went on, effectively saving Bilbo from himself, made foolish by a small amount of alcohol, "It was the first time all us kids went trick or treating 'round the neighborhood."

"Really? How old were you?" Bilbo asked as he wrapped his arms around himself, chilled by the cold, sober realization that he had come so close to ruining everything.

"Ten...something like that. I remember Frerin and Bofur dressed up as Wyatt Earp and Doc Holliday." he chuckled at the memory.

"Frerin...is he one of your cousins?" 

Thorin looked at the water, grateful for its calming, ethereal grace. "No," He shook his head, "He was my kid brother."

"You've never told me you have...wait," Bilbo's heart nearly stopped as the word _was_ registered in his brain. "You had..." He felt his throat begin to close up and tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. 

Thorin stared at the water. He had upset Bilbo, he could hear it in his voice, and he was sorry...the kid didn't need the night getting any shittier than it already had been...but he'd been wanting to tell him about the little brother he'd lost, he'd only been looking for the right time. "He was in the car with my dad."

"Oh, Thorin. God...I am so sorry." The tears were now falling, leaving twin black trails down his cheeks while inside his brain a storm was whirling. _Thorin had lost a brother lost a brother lost a..._

Thorin laid a hand on Bilbo's knee and shook it gently. "Hey...oh, hey...Bilbs...come on. I didn't mean to make you cry." 

Bilbo sucked snot back in to his nose as he pulled a hankie out of his pocket, shaking his head. "No, nonono...it's not...You didn't do it. I think it must just be the beer. It went straight to my head and... _damn_...this is so embarrassing. I'm not normally like this. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I've been meaning to tell you about Frerin but...it's still not real easy for me to talk about him."

"I understand that." Bilbo wiped the tears from his eyes and hoped he never forgot what Thorin's hand, still gripping his knee, felt like; warm, heavy, and strong.

Something deep inside Thorin, a reflex that felt as natural as breathing, wanted to touch Bilbo's face, brush his finger tips across a tear-dampened cheek. He lifted his hand from his friend's knee but a last-second warning, like an electrical shock to the chest, changed its direction, and, instead, he lightly tapped him on the chin with his knuckles. "Yeah, kiddo, I kinda knew you would." 

Bilbo smiled up at him, through his tears, which made his eyes glitter with the light from the pool, and, with sparks of that electricity still popping inside his body, Thorin wished they could get out of there. Leave. Run. Scram. He wished he had his bike there, or better yet, the woody, up and running. He'd just toss Bilbo in the front seat and drive them away from there, to anywhere. He could see himself, some half-assed pirate in dungarees, stalking away from the house with his treasure, his very own Little Tramp, tucked under his arm. It made him chuckle, easing some of the edginess that had been with him all night.

"You know, Thorin," Bilbo, glad that Thorin was smiling again, squeezed his hankie, stained with black smudges from his eye makeup, "you can tell me anything, anything you want and I'll keep it in strictest confidence. I promise."

"Thank you, Bilbo. That means an awful lot to me...you..." A sudden rush of hot blood to his brain made Thorin's eyesight go blurry for a moment. "You mean an awful lot to me." It was true! The kid meant _so_ much to him. He wasn't like any of the other fellas...like Dwalin...he was...he was... "And it goes both ways," He looked down at the dear face that fanned a small but hot, brilliant light somewhere, deep down in his gut. "I'm here for you. You know that, don't you?"

"I do." Bilbo nodded, savoring every one of Thorin's words. He wished they could stay like that, there on the diving board, just the two of them, forever.

"I mean it. I gave you my number. You need better friends...I keep saying that...don't I keep saying that?"

"You do." Bilbo nodded even harder.

"If I'd had your number... _damn_!...we coulda caught the double bill downtown, or something. Instead of this."

"I think they're showing _Frankenstein_ and _Bride of Frankenstein_ tonight." Bilbo was just talking at this point, trying to keep from bouncing off the board with elation. Had Thorin just suggested they go to the movies together? Alone? "I love those old monster movies. Sometimes I stay up late and watch them on t.v."

"Yeah?" Thorin tapped a cigarette out of its pack and lit it, forgoing the fancy handwork with his lighter. He sucked the smoke into his lungs, its old, familiar calm working its magic on his nerves, his heart, thumping heavy in his chest. "We'll do that soon...catch a flick...just you and me. Us single fellas need to stick together, don't we?"

"Yes we do," Bilbo watched, fascinated, as Thorin...so grown up...so masculine...pulled in deep drags from his cigarette and, for the first time since he'd known him, he wanted to ask him for one. Grandma would've had a _tizzy_ if she'd known what her beloved grandson, her precious _Petunia_ , was contemplating. It was fine for everyone else to break the rules! He had heard the stories about grandma and grandpa running off together, and her only 16 years old! And mom! Knocked up before dad even had a chance to put a ring on her finger! But one cigarette...oh, there'd be hell to pay, he was sure of that! He dragged his grandfather's black bowler from his head and, with both hands, scratched vigorously at his scalp, the shadow of a headache making itself visible on the horizon.

"You feelin' ok?" Thorin asked, appreciating the way every curly blonde hair on Bilbo's head, freed from the confines of the hat, was shooting every which way. It looked like it would feel real nice to touch. Soft and silky...

"I'm fine," Bilbo grumbled.

( _forgive me granny for I have sinned..._ )

He picked up his empty beer bottle...

( _I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world!_ )

...and chucked it, causing it to splash down, at the far-end of the pool.

"Nice throw, kid..."

"Can I tell you something?" Bilbo blurted. He wanted to tell Thorin that one thing about himself, that one truth, because he wanted...no...he _needed_ to know that Thorin was exactly the kind of person, the kind of friend, he believed him to be. And, knowing that the kind of bravery (reckless stupidity) that that kind of honesty required was a finite element, he rushed forward. "But...you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not a single, solitary soul. Not even Dwalin! I mean it, it's a secret. I can't make you promise not to laugh at me just...don't hate me. Please?"

"Hate you? I don't think I could ever..."

"Please, Thorin, you have to promise me!"

"Sure...yeah...of course..." Thorin's blood buzzed. To be the receiver of a friend's most guarded secret was an honor...one of the highest, and whatever it was the kid...Bilbo...had to tell him, he would guard it with his life. "I promise. You can tell me anything."

And that's when Bilbo told Thorin the story of that morning, up in the attic of his grandmother's home, amongst the trunks and wardrobes that contained the remainders of so many splendid lives, searching for something to wear to the party. He told him about grandma finding the dress, the flippy flapper number that was only being held together with bugle beads and champagne stains, and about her wild idea to dress him up, paint him up, like a girl, high heels and all. And, before he was done, he revealed that he had performed a little number for his mom, singing along to that old record, sounding more like Betty Boop than a boy probably should. It was all a crazy lark, but dad! What fun it had all been!

When he was done, had told all there was to tell, it dawned on him that Thorin was staring at the water, the faintest smile on his lips. He hadn't looked at Bilbo once. 

"I just went and ruined everything, didn't I?" He whispered with a faint, sad chuckle, his heart sinking down to the bottom of the pool.

Thorin heard him, but he was so caught up in the mental image Bilbo had laid on him - his cute little friend all tricked out like a girl, pretty as a picture, singing and dancing and making his sick mom happy - that he didn't respond. He wished he'd been there to see it...he really wished...

A tug on his sleeve snapped the film in two and he looked at Bilbo, who, in the light from the pool, was beginning to look a little green. "You gonna be sick?" He reached out and, brushing Bilbo's bangs back from his forehead, checked for a fever.

"No. I just thought..." Bilbo was sure Thorin could see the relief flowing out of him in big, blue waves.

"What? What did you think?" Thorin lowered his hand to squeeze Bilbo's sock-covered toes.

"I thought you might've been disgusted by what I told you."

"Disgusted? Why the hell would I be disgusted?"

"Because...I dressed up like a girl."

"Man...I really wish I'd seen that! I bet you looked great."

"Really? You don't think I'm some kind of sick deviant?"

"You? No! Why the hell would I think that? You need to remind me to steer you away from beer, it makes you think crazy shit. You know...it would've been a kick if you'd come to the party, all done up like a doll, just to watch the jokers here try to make time with you."

"Oh...so you think that'd be funny, huh?" 

"Yeah! Because then I'd step in and tell them to back off, that you're spoken for. And then they'd all see me leave with the prettiest girl in the joint, right here," He squeezed his bicep, "on my arm."

"I'd be your girl?" Bilbo asked, wondering if maybe he had had too much beer since he was hearing things in real life that he should only hear in dreams.

"Yeah." Thorin nodded, liking that idea an awful lot. Funny, he'd never felt this happy about being with a girl before. "You're my friend, aren't ya? Why couldn't you be my girl, too?"

Bilbo wanted to look right up into Thorin's face and yell, "What are you saying to me?!" Be his girl? What did that _mean_? Bilbo decided to push his luck, hoping that Thorin wouldn't remember this part of the conversation come morning. "I'd love to be your girl."

"You would, huh?" There was a faint quaver in Thorin's voice as something kind of like fear, kind of like excitement, burbled in his gut. And, at the center of the tumult, a tiny, quiet little voice he could barely hear...just a voice...no body...no face...whispered _Take him, he's all yours._

The sliding glass door opened, and out stepped the varsity twins, both of them three-sheets to the wind, howling with ugly, hyaena-like laughter, and destroying the magic web that had been woven around Bilbo and Thorin. Bilbo watched the one slap the other on the back and point and a familiar chill ran down his back.

"Look at those faggots, will ya?"

Thorin had heard it, too, and, flicking his cigarette into the pool, he jumped to his feet, leaping off the board, past a cringing Bilbo, and onto the patio. "What the fuck did you say?"

The hyenas, in reality just a couple of drunk chicken shits, beat feet, back through the door. Just then a loud _smack_ , followed by a girl's scream, came crashing down from the window just above. Thorin stood, his every muscle tense, listening. He didn't have to wait long before he heard Nori's fast-talking voice, probably trying to talk his way out of a situation. He looked to the diving board, but Bilbo wasn't there. No, he was standing right next to him.

"You stay here, cutie." Thorin said before running inside the house and up the stairs.

Bilbo was right behind him, his adrenalin pumping, a smile enormous on his face.

_Cutie._

+

"All right, all right, all right! Come on Lady Luck! Give this poor boy an 8!" Nori prayed out loud, shaking the dice, before giving them a toss. The little white cubes tumbled across the bare wood floor of the upstairs back hallway, bounced against the wainscoting, and came to a rest. Five black dots. Three black dots. The last time he checked, his public school education was telling him that three and five made eight...his lucky number. He was all teeth as he scooped up the dimes, nickels, and pennies that made up the evening's windfall. It had become pretty apparent to him, fairly early on, that none of the pretty fishies at this soirée were going to bite...not even a nibble for ol' Nori...but that didn't mean the night had to be a full bust. Finding a couple of fellas who seemed to be in the same boat as him was all it took to get a game of dice going. No high stakes or nothing...just whatever they could pull out of their pockets. Nori figured he had sweetened his on-hand cash supply by a good seventy-five cents. Man...he was rolling!

Tossing a dime down to keep his winning streak going, he scooped up the dice just as a heavy pair of feet came stomping up the stairs. "Ellen!" The feet's owner shouted, all thick and drunk. "Ellen! Hey!" A big, meaty fist pounded on the walls. "ELLEN!"

"Hey man! Shut your trap! We got business goin' on here!" Nori yelled. He wasn't about to let some pickled clodhopper ruin his evening. 

"Oh yeah! Well..." The drunkard, a big, baby-faced lump of a football playing senior by the name of Tommie Dole, swayed on his feet, trying to focus on the face that had just made noise at him. He blinked his eyes. "Ellen. You know where Ellen is?"

"Sorry friend, don't know where Ellen is. You ever think of putting her on a leash or somethin'?" This earned Nori some chuckles from the fellas. He turned back to the game at hand, shaking his dice, leaving poor Tommie blinking and wondering, as much as his poor inebriated brain could, where one could get a girlfriend leash. Laying his hand on the nearest doorknob, he turned it and, finding the door unlocked, opened it and inside he found...

"ELLEN!"

But Ellen wasn't alone.

+

Bofur knew he owed Nori something. Something real good. A pack of smokes, maybe. A bag of burgers from McDonald's. A couple beers. Whatever it would be, though, it wouldn't be nearly good enough. Coming to this party had been the single greatest idea Nori had ever had. And that was reaffirmed when Bofur rested his hand on the angora draped mound of Ellen's breast and she cooed the sweetest sigh he'd ever heard in his life.

Following Ellen upstairs to that back guest bedroom had been the greatest decision he had ever made in his life. They had settled in, sitting on the bed, side-by-side, sipping punch and talking, just two new friends getting to know one another. As the minutes slid by, they found they had quite a bit in common; they both liked chemistry and history, their favorite cowboy was Wanted: Dead or Alive's Josh Randall, and they both planned on going to UCLA once they graduated. It really didn't take all that long before they found themselves looking into each other's eyes. Fingers touched, hands were held, and then, with hearts a thunderin', lips were pressed together.

"Was that ok?" Bofur asked, wondering how he'd done. It was his first _real_ kiss, after all.

"Mmm hmm," Ellen hummed, her eyes still closed, as she went in for seconds. Ahhh...this girl was a dream come true!

Neither of them had been aware of what had come up the stairway, hollering Ellen's name, or heard the commotion right outside the door, but when Tommie came busting into the room, and saw his girl with another fella's hand on her tits - territory that had been forbidden to him the entire three months they had dated - Bofur and Ellen flew apart. Ellen immediately got to her feet.

"You're drunk again, Tommie Dole! You get out of here RIGHT NOW!"

"Babe...what are you doin'?" Tommie asked, trying to sound tough, but the alcohol was making his inner-weenie come out strong. "Who's this guy, huh? You makin' it with some other guy? I'm your fella..."

"You are not my fella, Tommie Dole! We broke up, remember? Now, will you please leave?" 

Tommie wasn't hearing her, though. He'd become fixated on the guy...the _geek_...who'd had the audacity to put his hands on his girl. He walked up to Bofur who had been hoping the very large, very drunk jock would do as the lady said and leave, but no one was that lucky. He would always remember the sound of Dole's fist coming into fairly violent contact with his cheekbone, followed by Ellen's scream, which seemed to come from far away.

At the sound of a fight, Nori and his new dice-tossing buddies were the first inside the room. Seeing Bofur, forever the baby of the gang, sprawled on the floor, the beginnings of a real nice shiner appearing on his cheek, got Nori's blood boiling. It was time to take a drunk asshole down for the count!

"What the hell, man? Why you gotta ruin a perfectly good party by punchin' up kids? Get outta here, you bum, before I smear your ass from here to Cucamonga!"

Tommie looked around at the crowd that was gathering inside the room and at the open door. This was too much to take on, even for a meathead like him. Stomping out of the room, he careened down the narrow stairway, bumping into Thorin, who was on his way up, pushing him into the wall, and narrowly avoiding clobbering Bilbo, who managed to duck in the nick of time.

"Hey, creep, watch where you're going!" Thorin called out after making sure Bilbo was ok. He was treated to the sight of the guy taking a tumble on the last step and coming to a rest on his drunk ass. Up the stairs he continued, pushing his way inside the room. Nori stood, his thumbs hooked in his dungaree pockets, next to Bofur who was sitting on the bed while a girl peppered his undamaged cheek with kisses.

"Ahhh...Durin, you missed all the action! Our little Bo, here, got belted in the line of duty!"

Bofur looked up at Thorin, who was the closest thing he had to a personal hero. "All I was doin' was kissing a girl. I didn't start nothin', honest!"

Thorin laughed, wondering when his little brother's best friend had gone and grown up. "I know you didn't, Bo."

"Whadda ya guys say to blowin' this dump?" Nori asked, post-excitement adrenalin starting to make him feel antsy. "I made a bundle off these fine gentlemen and I'm feelin' generous! Let's us go grab some beers!"

That idea suited everyone, except Bofur, who was not so keen on leaving his new lady love behind, but Ellen quickly scribbled her number down on a piece of paper and shoved it in his hand with one last kiss. "Call me tomorrow, Bofie. I'll be waiting."

Together, the fellas tromped down the stairs. Bilbo was at Thorin's side, sad that the evening had come to an end, and worried that whatever magic spell had fallen over them, out by the pool, would stay there, never to appear again. That worry dissipated the second he felt Thorin's hand press against his back.

"You're comin' with, aren't ya?" 

Bilbo's heart leapt and sank, almost simultaneously, as he glanced quickly at his wristwatch. "I'd love to, really, but Jimmy's going to be here in about ten minutes to take me home." He watched Bofur, who was sending curious, almost disappointed, looks his way before nudging Nori and whispering in his ear. Nori took a quick peek back before shrugging and shaking his head. Now, what was _that_ all about? Thorin didn't seem to be aware of any of it.

"Granny wants her boy home, safe and sound, huh? Tell me, why hasn't she gotten you some sporty little foreign job to terrorize the town in?" Thorin asked, clearing a way for Bilbo through the jabbering crowd in the foyer.

Bilbo laughed. "I think a fella would have to know how to drive before he can own a car. Don't you?"

Thorin came to a dead stop, right there in the front walkway of the house, and grabbed Bilbo by the shoulder. "Whadda you mean you don't know how to drive?"

Bilbo's eyes went wide, surprised by Thorin's reaction. "I don't know how to drive. Once I was old enough to learn, Mom was already sick and my dad was gone. Uncle Bingo offered to teach me, but mom and I ended up moving down here before he could get a chance. Jimmy told me he'd show me the ropes when he gets some free time."

Thorin kicked at the pavement, feeling kind of jealous that this Jimmy guy, nice enough fella that he was, got to do so much for Bilbo. "You know, if he's too busy, I'd be happy to show you a thing or two. If you want."

"I'd love that!" Bilbo hoped he remembered every wonderful thing Thorin had said that night so he could write it all down in his journal. "But don't you need a car, first?"

"Ahhh..." Thorin waved that away as they continued on to where Nori and Bofur were waiting, not so patiently, by the rod. "I'm sure ma would let me borrow her car, besides...the woody is going to be running any day now."

"Will you forgive me if I don't hold my breath until that happens?" Bilbo teased.

"Brat." Thorin mumbled, under his breath, but Bilbo didn't miss the grin he had come to adore.

"GEEZUS, Durin! Get a MOVE on, WILL YA?" Nori hollered from behind the wheel of his heap. 

Thorin stopped, a few feet from the car and his friends, and turned to Bilbo. He took another look at the kid in his costume...MAN! He really did look great! That's when he noticed Bilbo wasn't wearing his shoes, probably left back by the pool.

"You forgot your shoes." He said, softly. "You're gonna get your socks dirty."

"Oh..." Bilbo blushed, self-consciously covering one stockinged foot with the other. "That's ok. I have a lot of socks...at home." 

The boys stood and looked at one another, and while one of them understood the painful throbbing in his chest, the other figured it was just due to the odd mix of drinking beer at a shitty party, but in good company with the added bonus of a fracas. Reaching out a tentative hand, not sure of where it was going, Thorin ended up pressing his fingertip against the silly little paper mustache that had managed to stay attached to Bilbo's upper lip. He chuckled.

"Funny little man." He said.

And he hopped into the backseat of Nori's piece of crap. 

Bilbo stood, on one foot, watching them sputter and spark away, and waving to Thorin who looked back at him until he was out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SONG CREDITS**  
>  _Get Out and Get Under the Moon_ , 1928  
> Music by Larry Shay, Words by Charles Tobias and William Jerome
> 
>  _Stupid Cupid_ , 1958  
> Music and Lyrics by Howard Greenfield and Neil Sedaka
> 
>  **PRINT SOURCES**  
>  Ackroyd, Peter. _Charlie Chaplin: A Brief Life_.  
>  Nan A. Talese/Doubleday, 2014
> 
> Zeitz, Joshua. _Flapper: A Madcap Story of Sex, Style, Celebrity, and the Women Who Made America Modern_. Broadway Books, 2007
> 
> Ada's fellow party goers are Charles Chaplin, Douglas Fairbanks, Mary Pickford, Gloria Swanson, and Buster Keaton...some of the biggest names of the silent film era.
> 
> The 18th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was the one which banned the manufacture, transportation, and sale of alcohol (but not consumption). It lasted from 1920 to 1933 and lead to the rise of a criminal element that supplied bootleg liquor and ran "speakeasys". 
> 
> The Great War = World War I, which was fought from 1914 to 1918, with the United States becoming involved in 1917. It was, according to President Woodrow Wilson, supposed to be the war to end all wars.
> 
> Ada danced the Black Bottom, which, like the Charleston, were high energy dances that could be performed in pairs or solo and fit perfect with the new music called jazz that had become popular during the twenties. 
> 
> Bilbo made a real pretty girl, all dressed up in grandma's clothes, but if he'd gone out in that, on any day other than October 31, he would've been arrested for "masquerading". Cross-dressing was illegal and even women who wore what were considered "mannish" trousers could be pulled in by the cops.
> 
> If you were alive in the '90's, you're probably familiar with Raphael's _putti_ , those sweet, chubby face little cupids that were on ANYTHING that could have a picture printed on it. I had a stationary set. 
> 
> Helen Kane (1904-1966) was an American singer who is widely credited for being the real life inspiration for Betty Boop. However, she sort of stole her style of singing from an African-American performer who went by the name of Baby Esther.
> 
> When Bilbo says the name "Daisy is already taken", he's referring to the fictional Daisy Buchanan, Jay "The Great" Gatsby's dream girl from the book that many consider THE great American novel.
> 
> Bilbo goes to the party as Charlie Chaplin, who, at the height of his career, was the most famous entertainer in the world. If you're not familiar with his work, a lot of it is available on YouTube, along with many other silent films. I highly recommend "The Kid" as well as Buster Keaton's "The General". I actually fell head-over-heels in love with Keaton while researching the era. He was the original cinnamon roll...WAY too pure for this world!
> 
> "Tomato" is a slightly obnoxious slang for a good looking girl that was in use mid-century.
> 
> McDonald's got it's start in Southern California, the first shop opening in San Bernadino, east of Los Angeles, on Route 66 in 1948. The oldest operating Mickey D's is in the town of Downey, a little bit south of Pasadena. It opened in 1953 and is on the U.S. National Register of Historic Places. 
> 
> Evendím claims she is dressed up as Sandra Dee, who was an up-and-coming young actress. In 1959 she would star in the movie "Gidget", which would usher in a whole slew of surfing movies in the early 60s.
> 
> [An ad for Falstaff Beer](https://youtu.be/wrScZdC1yn0). "Man-sized Pleasure!"
> 
> When Ellen calls Bofur "Hopalong", she's referencing Hopalong Cassidy who was the cowboy hero of a series of popular films, tv shows, and on radio. Wanted: Dead or Alive was a western television show that started in the fall of '58. Its star was none other than a young Steve McQueen, who played bounty hunter Josh Randall. 
> 
> The verse Bilbo recites to himself as he tosses the bottle is from Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself."
> 
> Cucamonga, or rather, Rancho Cucamonga, is a town in San Bernadino County, a bit east of Pasadena. When I've been down in SoCal, I've heard it referred to as "Rancho Cuckoo".
> 
> I've been diggin the scene on Pinterest, lately, and I have a board geared specifically to the fifties aesthetic. It's called "Mid-century was the most, dad!". It makes me pretty happy.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, your comments, kudos, EVERYTHING! You kids really help keep this thing going!
> 
> Next on _2941 Acorn Lane_ : HOMECOMING!


	18. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/NFYttZy)
> 
> Dís watched her friends lead their dates out onto the dance floor. _Oh no!_ , she thought. This was one dance she wasn't going to sit out. Knowing there was no time to lose, she grabbed Bilbo by the arm. "Hey, do you know how to dance?" She asked him, all urgent and breathless. 
> 
> "Yeah. Sort of, I guess." Bilbo confessed. He had been his mom's dance partner, doing the box-step to records in the living room, ever since he could remember. And he never missed an episode of American Bandstand.
> 
> Dís bounced on her toes. "Can you do the Stroll?"  
> "I think so." 
> 
> "Well, then come on!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> There aren't any new tags for this chapter.

**Saturday, November 15, 1958...2941 Acorn Lane...9:00 a.m.**

"FUCK!"

The word came flying out of Bilbo's mouth as he hurled his slipper against his bedroom wall, where it made a pathetic little _thunk_ before dropping to the floor. The anger, which had manifested in a flash, just as quickly fled the scene, leaving our hero to stand glumly in the middle of his bedroom feeling silly and sorry for his chilly right foot. It hadn't been his slipper's fault. Heck! if anything deserved to be chucked it was the blue suit, hanging from the casing of his open closet, the cleaner's tags still pinned to a sleeve. That's what had set him off just minutes after hopping out of bed - his best navy blue suit. But that wasn't all! He couldn't overlook those black oxfords, all polished and shiny, resting on the floor below the suit, or the pale pink pocket square laid out on his dressing table, a perfect match to his pink dress shirt and tie. 

And then there was the worst villain of them all.

Looking into the cheval glass that stood in the corner, Bilbo got a good look at himself, still in pajamas and robe, face flush with a now waning ire, and where there had once been a curtain of shaggy bangs...

He ran his hands through his freshly cut hair, trimmed neat and stylish by Arturo, the Italian barber Jimmy had taken him to see just the day before. He had had a wonderful time, hearing stories of Milan before the war, half of it in the older gentleman's native tongue, and being assured that his haircut was the height of _la moda_ with _i giovani_ back in the old country. He had also had his nails trimmed and filed and would've even gotten a shave, but Arturo had laughed. " _Liscia come il culo di un bambino._ ", he had said, patting Bilbo's cheek, "Come back in a year, I will give you your first shave, _è offerto dalla casa_!" 

All of this preparation; the suit, shoes, hair...it was all for the homecoming dance happening that night. And there it was! The wellspring of Bilbo's filthy-word-spewing-slipper-chucking anger! _It just isn't fair_! He wanted to shout. For the first time in his life he had someone; a bona fide, genuine, wearing-his-pin someone. A steady! A sweetheart! That's who he should be going to the dance with! Instead, all he had to look forward to was a night of standing alone, watching the other guys, all of them clean behind the ears and wearing their best sports coat, hair thick and glossy with pomade. And every girl would be made up as pretty as can be in a new party dress. A few of them may even be looking forward to a post-dance stop at the Overlook. Bilbo tingled at the memory of his time at the passion point; the city lights twinkling down below and Thorin... _his_ Thorin...snuggled up beside him and kissing him for the very first time. It had only been a week, but for some reason it felt to him as if their hearts had been beating as one for much longer. They had just as much right to attend the dance together, or rather, they should. It was ridiculous that they couldn't just because they had the same...

Picking up his slipper, Bilbo had half a mind to chuck it again but cold toes changed his mind. He slipped it on and tied his robe's sash snugly around his waist. Why shouldn't he and Thorin be allowed to go to the dance together? Any two people, if they chose, should be allowed to do so. Why should they have to hide away their affection for one another? They were living in a modern era, a time of technological marvels, yet humanity was more willing to create the means to destroy itself many times over than accept the love of one man for another! Perhaps Darwin was wrong. Perhaps the human race wasn't evolving at all, merely looking for a way to crawl back into the ooze from which it sprang.

**KNOCK! KNOCK!**

"Hey, Buddy Boy! You up?" Jimmy called from the other side of the bedroom door.

"Yeah, Jim..." Bilbo answered as he went to the door. "I'm up." He opened it to the friendly face of Jim Storm who was looking handsome as ever, even at that early hour. Some guys had all the breaks.

"Granny sent me...breakfast is almost ready. Hey, you ok?"

Bilbo put a hand to his cheek, which was still warm to the touch. He knew his face was a mess of red splotches, a condition that erupted whenever he got upset. Everyone in the house had seen it before, on those days when the doctor had been there to see Bella, a reminder to her son that his mother wasn't long for the world. He put on a smile and shook his head. "It's nothing. I just..." 

"Thorin?" Jim asked, afraid that perhaps the kid had gotten a call late last night.

Bilbo's demeanor brightened at the sound of his boyfriend's name. "No...no...we're still...Everything's great with him! It's..."

"Homecoming." Jimmy finished Bilbo's sentence. He leaned against the door jamb. "It's the dance that's got you bummed out."

Bilbo fiddled with the ends of his robe's sash, feeling foolish. Homecoming. Of all the idiotic things for him to get upset about! As Thorin would say, " _It's a square's dance put on by squares for squares. That's not for us, baby._ "

He laughed.

"How'd you guess?"

"Cuz if I was you, with a brand new lover man and all, I'd be stinking mad. It's not fair you two gotta sit this out. But guys like us, bud, we gotta find our own place and time. Won't always line up with what the straights are doing, you know?"

"I know," Bilbo nodded, grateful he had someone like Jimmy in his life, someone who been through it all, and then some. "I just couldn't help getting upset, thinking that..." he ran his hand through his newly shorn locks. "I'm going to get all dressed up tonight for a dance and the one person I want to be with..." He shook his head, sadly.

"He'll see you tomorrow won't he? Which, you gotta admit, is a whole lot better than wasting time at some school dance. Everyone's gonna be counting down 'til they can jet the scene for a little backseat boogie."

Bilbo giggled, "I never thought about that. We'd probably be counting down ourselves." When was the last time he and Thorin had kissed? Wednesday. It had been Wednesday, after school, not long after he'd hung the chain bearing his father's class ring around Thorin's neck. They'd been sitting in front of the t.v. in the Durin family living room, watching cartoons, and eating meatloaf sandwiches. He remembered how their mouths had been sweet and salty from soda and potato chips. Warmth bloomed below and Bilbo wished he hadn't pulled his robe around himself quite so tight.

Jimmy chuckled, "I don't doubt it! But just think...you get him here...we got a pool! You get in the pool, wearing nothing but your trunks...Hey!" He leaned in closer. "You ever seen him with his shirt off?"

Bilbo blushed something furious, to the tips of his ears. "No, not yet."

"Well, I think you're in for a heck of a treat, buddy boy! In the meantime, we got a game to get to, don't we? I hear both Pasadena and Muir got a few nice tight ends this year." Jimmy punctuated that with a wink and a playful punch to Bilbo's arm.

"JIMMY! BILBO! BREAKFAST IS READY! ¡ _Apúrense_!" Maria Ellena shouted from the bottom of the stairs. 

Bilbo joined Jimmy, and together they headed down the hallway to the grand staircase, the scent of frying bacon leading them directly to the kitchen. They were halfway down the stairs when Bilbo remembered something.

"But I thought a football team had only one tight end."

The handyman laughed. "If we're lucky, bud, it'll be nothing but!"

++++++++

**Bifur's Garage...9:00 am**

 

"You know, last night she was telling me she's got a surprise all worked out for after the dance. What do you think it is? I tried to get her to throw me a clue, but you know that girl...when she's got her mind set on something there's no budging her. So...whadda ya think?"

Thorin did up the buttons on his coveralls, his state-of-mind somewhere between thunderclouds and full-blown storm. "What do I think _what_?" He grumbled at his best friend. 

Dwalin looked up from tying his work boot. Thorin had, up until that point, been his usual low-key self that morning, but his tone of voice now warned of rough road ahead. " _What_ what? Shery's surprise for me is what."

"How the hell should I know?" Thorin spat back, wishing for all the world he had a small picture of Bilbo to tape to the inside of his locker door. Something he could tuck behind the picture of his dad. Just knowing his baby was there...

Dwalin huffed, letting his booted foot fall heavily to the cement floor. "What crawled up your ass and died?" He shot back. "Wait...maybe I don't want to know the answer to that."

Throwing a glare over his shoulder that could've melted solid rock, Thorin slammed his locker closed and stormed out of the room. Dwalin finished tying his boots before steeling himself to go head-to-head with whatever it was that had a furious grip on his best friend. Getting to his feet, he followed after him.

"Come on, man, you know I was just kidding...hey!" He caught up with Thorin, who was unlocking the door on the tall, metal tool cabinet. "What's got you so steamed? You usually don't give two squirts for crap like Homecoming."

"I still don't." Thorin yanked the metal door open and stared blankly at a row of wrenches, neatly laid out according to size. He didn't want to start a fight with Dwalin. Christ, the guy had every right to be tied-up in knots. He was going to show up all those upright, uptight pricks at school by making an appearance with the prettiest girl in town. And who knew what else the evening would have in store for him. Dwalin had every right to be excited about the dance. Thorin knew that. He understood all about being in love. "Sorry. I didn't mean to bite at you like that."

Dwalin wrapped an arm around Thorin shoulders and leaned in, whispering, "Is this about..." He was afraid to say Bilbo's name out loud even though Bifur was cozied away in the office, sharing his wife's chocolate babka with cousin Bofur. 

Taking a deep breath, Thorin nodded. "I've been going crazy, thinking that he's going to be there with that cousin of his. And that schmuck Togo and his band of punks. Ever-dim's gonna up and ditch him, I know it. Just like she did at that Halloween party."

"And his prince won't be there to save him."

"He doesn't deserve to be shit on like that, Dwal! I just wish..."

"That you could be there. Or you two could be somewhere else. I'm getting the message, brother! If I were you I'd be dyin' right now! But the thing is...your Billy...he's a real feisty kid. He'll make it through in one piece. He's _your_ honey, ain't he?"

Thorin chuckled, deep in his throat. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means that Thorin O. Durin don't date no wusses, that's what. Baggins can hold his own. Otherwise you wouldn't have him."

As he so often was, Dwalin was right on the money. Bilbo could hold his own, or at least offer up one hell of an attempt, even if it got him creamed in the process. Thorin knew that was what he had initially found so intriguing about the kid. The memory of Bilbo on that day back in September, shaken and scared but willing to take on anyone who was threatening to mess with him, made Thorin's chest tighten. His brave little man. Thorin cracked a smile.

"You're right." He admitted. "But...it doesn't change the fact that he shouldn't have to put up with creeps treating him lower than dirt. He's my..." Thorin gripped the front of his coveralls in the space right over his heart. "I got an obligation to him, Dwal. That's all there is to it."

Dwalin was struck dumb for a second. It had only been the day before yesterday that he'd found out that his best friend had fallen for another guy and maybe he had been holding on to a shred of belief that this was all some kind of joke or momentary bout of looniness on Thorin's part, but whatever remained crumbled away. This was no joke. Thorin's love for that boy was as real as it got. And Dwalin knew what he had to do to help make things right.

"Look, man, if it makes you feel any better, Shery and I can keep an eye on him for you. You know, just in case he needs a hand."

"Will you?" The weight on Thorin's mind lightened by a ton. "You don't have to babysit him. He'd hate that. Just...I don't know. Say 'hi' to him or somethin'. For me."

Dwalin clapped him on the back. "You bet, brother! Though I gotta tell you...I draw the line at slow dancin' with him."

Thorin smiled, playfully elbowing Dwalin in the ribs, "Good. Cause I'd have to slug you one if you did."

"You're really stirred-up and knocked over sideways by the little guy, aren't ya?"

"Sideways, backwards, and upside down."

"He better be worth all this, I'm tellin' ya! You deserve all the good things, my friend. All of 'em."

Thorin wrapped his hand around the back of Dwalin's neck and pressed their foreheads together, a gesture that dated back to their childhoods spent playing knights in armor. It was a symbol of their bond as brothers-in-spirit as well as blood. Of their undying loyalty to one another.

"Come on, come on! I don't pay you two to stand around smoochin'! Let's get this garage open!" Bifur boomed from the doorway of his office, Bofur scooting from behind him to go man his post at the pumps.

"Anything for you, big _macher_!" Dwalin teased his boss. 

"That's right, Fundinson, I am the big _macher_ around here and don't you forget it! Ever tell you about the time I kicked your father's ass back in high school?"

Thorin rolled his eyes as Dwalin nodded, "Yeah, only about a hundred times."

"Good! And you're not so big now I can't kick yours, _fershtay_? You too, Durin! Your father, _Alav HaShalom_ , would thank me. Now, get to work the both of ya!"

The boys bit their lips to try to keep from smiling and got to work gathering the tools they'd need to bring an old Buick back to life.

++++++++

**Pasadena Bulldogs v John Muir Mustangs...Rose Bowl Stadium... <> 1:30 p.m.**

  
_Come on fellas, Get that ball!_  
_Don’t you fumble and don’t you fall!_  
_Just kick it to the left,_  
_And pass it to the right!_  
_Come on fellas, fight, fight, fight!_  


Eight pairs of red and white pom poms flew up in the air, propelled by eight pairs of saddle oxfords leaping off the ground. Back to earth they fell, but not staying long. There were high-kicks and cartwheels and more mad rustling for the young ladies of Pasadena High School's Freshman cheer team. One of them, though, merely bounced excitedly on her toes, pom poms pressed to her chest, eyes scanning the stands, hoping to land on a particular boy in horn-rimmed glasses, sporting a snazzy new hair cut. Muir had just scored a touchdown followed by a field goal and the score was now Muir-14, Pasadena-7. With the game in the last quarter, some Bulldogs were starting to see the writing on the wall and were leaving the stadium in order to beat the traffic jam out of the parking lot. But there was nothing for the girl to worry about. The boy was still in his seat, watching the game with great interest. And, as if he could sense her looking his way, he looked down at her and waved. 

Dís jumped up and down, waving back, her pom poms emphasizing the point, which seemed to make the boy smile wider and wave harder. He even nudged the older guy he was with to point her out, which tickled Dís right on down to her toes. This day had been a blast! Well, except for the part where her team was losing their homecoming game against crosstown rival John Muir High. But that was just a technicality since they were playing in the world famous Rose Bowl Stadium, home of the oldest and biggest college football tournament which, along with the Pasadena Tournament of Roses Parade, was a New Year's Day tradition. 

Dís didn't notice Teresa coming up beside her. 

"So, DeeDee, When's the wedding?"

Dís jumped with surprise and was quick to be miffed that she had to pull her attention away from Bilbo. "What?! Stop it, Campos! You know darn well we're just friends."

"Do I?" Teresa looked up at Bilbo, sitting in the stands. "Say..." She perked up when she noticed the older, dark-skinned man sitting next to Dís' little blonde boy. "Who's the _chico guapo_ sitting next to him?"

Dís had barely noticed the other man. "I don't know. Maybe he's a family friend."

"I like his taste in friends. You know, it's too bad your brother's such a pill, he's missing out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I was thinking, since he and Bilbo seem to be pretty tight, you'd think Thorin would want to be the one to bring his new friend to the game."

"You know he's too cool for school. Besides, he's working."

"Awww...He's always working."

It was true, now that Dís thought about it, that every time she had spotted either Bilbo or her brother this past week, they _had_ been together. Bilbo had even started having his lunch up at the bleachers with Thorin and his friends. No one had infiltrated his gang since...ever. That was just proof to Dís of that... _je ne sais quoi_...that Bilbo had in spades. As she had discovered on their trip to Hollywood, he was an awful lot of fun to be around and a superb influence on Thorin. An uncomfortable little stab of jealousy, directed at her brother, poked her in the gut. She dismissed TC's last comment with a wave of her hand.

"Forget Thorin. What are you doing checking out other guys? What would Ignacio say?"

"What can he say? He's my date for homecoming, not my _marido_. What would Josh say about you eyein' Baggins up there."

"Oh shush!" Dís couldn't help blushing. She gave TC a pom pom punch to the arm. "You know Josh is just a friend. And I'm not eyein' anybody! So stop..."

"CAMPOS! DURIN! Quit your jabbering and get over here!" It was Mindy, the team captain, pretty peeved that two of her girls had so obviously lost interest in the game and were being a couple of chatterboxes. As she had tried to drill into her girls at the beginning of the season; "A bulldog never quits!" Even with the possibility of a victory for their team pretty much out of reach, that didn't mean that the cheer team's job was done. They were in this fight 'til the bitter end!

TC and Dís exchanged worried glances before hustling to take their places with the squad. Both girls knew full well that getting kicked out of cheerleading, especially this early in the school year, would bring down the wrath of their mamas. Their team was down and the girls on the sidelines had a job to do. It was time to ask for a miracle.

_We want another one_  
_Just like the other one_  
_One more little touch-down..._  
_Score, score, score!_

As Dís worked her pom poms, hollering with all her might, she couldn't help sparing one last look up at the boy in the stands. To her great delight, he was looking right back at her.

++++++++

**Pasadena High School Gymnasium...7:15 p.m.**

Bilbo refused to look at his watch again. The last time he had it had told him that he'd been standing in front of the gym, alone, with corsage in hand, for ten minutes. And that had been at least ten minutes ago. Looking would only make him angry and he really didn't want to waste any more energy being angry about this whole homecoming business. 

He looked. 

7:15. 

The muscle in his jaw tightened. Twenty minutes. That's how long he'd been waiting for Evendím to show up. Of all of the rude, inconsiderate, ill-mannered, disrespectful... 

"Hi, Bilbo." It was Janet Blythe, a girl from his Chemistry class. She was coming up the path with her date, looking nice in a pale green dress, an extra petticoat under the skirt, and her flippy red hair pinned back on one side. Somewhat cheered by a familiar, friendly face, Bilbo smiled and gave the girl a little wave in greeting. 

"Hi, Janet." He looked quickly from Janet to her date, Brad Houseman. Bilbo had always thought Brad to be one of the cuter guys on campus, tall and boyishly handsome. He couldn't help giving the guy a wave and a smile as well. "Hi, Brad." Brad, in return, gave him a look one usually reserves for science experiments gone sideways. "Hey." Was all he said in return and Bilbo felt stung by it. What had he expected? That Brad Houseman, a regular fella if there ever was one, would come over and slap him on the back with a hearty, "Hey Bilbs! What's cookin', small fry?" like Dwalin had just the day before? Of course he hadn't, but after a week spent going steady with the greatest guy on earth and being welcomed as part of his gang had certainly done something for Bilbo's self-esteem and, it seemed, he now expected more from people than he ever had before. The couple walked past and into the gym, leaving him feeling like a well-dressed sore thumb. 

"Oh, this is ridiculous!" He huffed silently to himself as he tugged on his jacket and pushed his glasses back in to place. There was no good reason why he, a Took AND a Baggins, should feel self-conscious standing in front of the school gymnasium waiting for his date...wait, let's rephrase that...his spoiled, insulting, discourteous cousin to show up. He had to put on a show of sorts...make it look as if he felt that he belonged there, just another one of those sunny Southern California teenagers. Those straights. One of them. 

Pulling himself up on the inside, he tried to distract himself from his situation by focusing on the music wafting from the PA system inside the gym. 

  
_Crazy love it's just a crazy love_  
_I love you so but I still know_  
_It's a crazy love._  


It was Paul Anka, warbling about his Crazy Love, and Bilbo had to hide a chuckle behind his hand. "I'll show you a crazy love, pal." He wanted to yell back at the open gym doors. A crazy love...yeah, that's what he and Thorin had. A beautiful, wild, crazy, _dangerous_ love. On the very periphery of his hearing, he would've sworn he could hear the now familiar rumble of a motorcycle, somewhere out on Colorado Boulevard.

"Thorin," he whispered under his breath. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Thorin was out there, sitting in front of the school on his bike, waiting at the light. Waiting for him. Bilbo was a hairs-breadth away from tossing the corsage and running down to the street with the hope of catching his boyfriend before he rode away, and hopping on to the back of his bike to head off to the race track. To spend the evening by Thorin's side watching hunks of souped-up junk roar into the night would be just like heaven! He took a step...

"Look, Josh, it's my friend Bilbo! HEY! Bilbo, **HEY**!!"

Dís was tearing up the walk, looking party-perfect in a powder-blue chiffon dress, dragging along by the hand a dark, curly haired boy wearing black-framed glasses. Bilbo waved back, straining his ears for one last sound of that distant motorcycle and he believed he could hear Thorin revving that engine up and speeding away. His heart broke, just a little bit.

"Good evening, Miss Dís!" He put on a happy face. "My goodness! Don't you look pretty tonight?"

Dís came to a bouncing stop beside Bilbo as the dark-haired boy panted beside her. "Aww, geez, Bilbo...thank you! Mama let me get a new dress just for tonight." She gushed in a rush of words. "You look, wow! Really handsome. I mean it! I like your haircut. I noticed it at the game, today. It suits you, I mean, really!" She ran out of words and could only sway with the excited energy that coursed through her. 

Bilbo laughed, charmed, as always, by the girl. _Leave it to a Durin_ , he thought, _to chase away the blues_. "Thank you very much, that's very sweet of you to say so." He looked at the other boy and held out his hand. "Hi, Bilbo Baggins."

Dís had nearly forgotten Josh was there. "Oh, sorry! This is Josh Levy. We're just friends." She made sure to add lest Bilbo mistake their attending the dance together for a date. 

Josh gave Bilbo an honest-to-goodness friendly smile and a genuine handshake. "Nice to meet ya, Bilbo. Dís talked about you the whole way here."

"Not the whole way," Dis fibbed, "but I did tell him how you treated me and Thorin to lunch at Musso and Frank last Sunday."

Bilbo couldn't help being a little embarrassed by Dís' boasting. "Don't forget, Thorin paid for part of it."

"Yeah, but not very much. Hey, did you hear about Tyrone Power?"

Bilbo had heard, on the car radio as Jimmy drove him to the dance, that one of his favorite actors, Tyrone Power, had died that very day while making a movie in Spain, at the much too young age of 44. It had only been a week since he'd tried on the man's cement footprints in front of the Chinese Theater. "I did..."

"It's weird when someone famous dies, don't ya think? Like...nothing bad should ever happen to them. Mama got all choked up, but he was always her heartthrob, probably because he kinda looked like papa. Of course, it's nothing like how Thorin carried on after James Dean died. Boy, you should have seen him. I swear he didn't talk for a week!" 

Bilbo could imagine the younger Thorin, sitting alone in his room, feeling betrayed by a world that seemed bent on taking his heroes away from him. He now felt each and every mile that separated him from his love and it began to _hurt_.

"He's a big fan." Bilbo said after clearing his throat and hoping he didn't have to go for the hankie in his trouser pocket. 

"That's an understatement." Dís said, wondering why Bilbo seemed sad all of a sudden. Then it hit her. 

"Weren't you supposed to come with your cousin?"

That muscle in Bilbo's jaw re-clenched. "I was, but there was a change of plans so I'm meeting her here." Bilbo had received a nearly last-minute call from Evie, just as he and Jimmy were heading out the door for the game, informing him that she would be arriving at the dance with her best friend Leslie and Leslie's date Norman. She had also issued a stern reminder to not be late. "7:00 sharp!" She had commanded. He looked at his watch. The hands were standing at 7:25. He'd been waiting in front of the gym for half an hour. Well, at least grandma had promised that this was to be the last time he would have to have anything to do with the girl.

"Oh." Was all Dís could say in response without saying anything rude. How could that Evendím...how could _ANYONE_ keep a great fella like Bilbo waiting like this? If he were her date, she wouldn't have kept him waiting. No, sir! If only he were her date.

"DÍS!!!"

Suddenly, coming from what seemed to him as from out-of-thin-air, Bilbo found himself surrounded by a boisterous group of boys and girls in fancy dress. It was none other than Teresa, Mal, Val, and Peggy Sue, the infamous Gaggle, as well as their dates, all ready and rarin' to experience their very first high school dance. Teresa Campos strode right up to him.

"Oohhh...look at you! ¡Que estás muy elegante, mi amigo!" She tried to tease him by speaking in her native Spanish while giving him an up-and-down look over that left his cheeks turning pink. While he understood only a couple of words of Spanish, he had a pretty good idea she had just given him a compliment. After all, Questi molto elegante was Italian for You look real sharp...more or less.

"Gracias, señorita." He performed a little bow.

To say Teresa was impressed would be just a smidge of an understatement. "You know what, DeeDee? I like this fella! You can keep him."

"Just ignore her!" Dís blurted, quickly inserting herself between her best friend and the boy she liked. "She's just being a big Mexican ham."

"We gonna stand here all night, or are we gonna make the scene already?" Mal's date Ronnie asked as the couple swayed along to the song playing in the gym.

It was time to make the scene, everyone agreed, and they moved, _en masse_ , to the source of the music. Dís, however, couldn't help lagging behind.

"You gonna be ok out here?" She asked Bilbo, briefly touching the fine navy blue wool of his jacket's sleeve.

"No, you go on. Evie will be here soon." Bilbo reassured the girl.

"If you say so. You know, if you get a chance...you gotta come over and say "hi", okay?" 

Bilbo smiled, wishing more than ever that he had told Evie to stuff it. "You bet I will."

Dís took the ever-patient Josh's offered arm, and together the couple joined the others and went into the gym. Before disappearing inside the building, she took one last look back at the swell boy in the dark blue suit with the stylish new haircut, standing alone in front of the gym. If only he were her date...

Bilbo watched the gang of freshmen enter the gym, giving Dís one last wave before she disappeared from view.

"I hope you remembered the tickets."

His heart sank at the sound of the voice coming from behind, and he would've preferred to just ignore it, but instead he turned around, adopting a civil tone.

"And a good evening to you too, Evendím."

+

_Everyone was looking_!

For Dwalin, that was what this homecoming business was all about. 

_Get an eyeful, chumps_! He thought as he escorted Sherilyn through the crepe-paper festooned gym, past throngs of kids dancing and chatting, getting punch from a big crystal bowl and sitting at tables scattered here and there. More than a few of them, boys and girls, were turning to look at the most recent arrivals.

Who could blame them? Sherilyn was easily the prettiest girl there and boy! was she showing off her assets! Unlike most of the girls who wore pastel colored party dresses with a full skirt supported by a crinoline, Sheri was wearing a simple little number in black silk with a curves-hugging skirt and spaghetti-thin straps. Draped over her creamy shoulders was her mother's black mink stole and on her feet, her signature kitten-heel pumps. Dwalin had had a heck of a time keeping it together in front of Mr. and Mrs. Horne as his girl made her grand entrance, coming down the staircase like some kind of raven-haired enchantress. And all through dinner at that swank little Italian place, he had barely touched his raviolis. All he could do was stare at the vision of loveliness seated across from him.

He strutted through the stunned throng until a tug on his arm pulled him from his internal gloating.

"Dwalie, look! Isn't that Bilbo? Oh, that poor sugar looks like he's all alone." Sherilyn urgently directed Dwalin's attention toward a cluster of tables. He could make out the cousin, Evendím, and her puffed-up crowd of spoiled brats filling one while at the table next to them sat Bilbo Baggins, dressed up and all alone. Dwalin swore low under his breath as a fury began to cook in his gut. They hadn't even tried to make room for the kid! It was a good damn thing Thorin wasn't there to see that. It would've only taken from 0 to 10 for the situation to get real ugly.

"Sure 'nuff, babe, that's him. Whadda ya say we go bail him out of there?" Dwalin asked, but Sherilyn was already pulling him along in Bilbo's direction. Once they'd gotten close enough to get the boy's attention, but stay off Evendim's radar, the couple began waving and whisper-shouting his name. Bilbo caught on quick.

"Ahh...the cavalry's arrived!" He kidded, silently to himself. He'd been sitting there, at his table of one, trying to talk himself into leaving it and joining Dís and her friends, but he hadn't quite been able get past the idea of being the odd-man out with a group of freshmen, even if they were all real swell kids. But the sight of Dwalin and Sherilyn trying to get his attention lit in him the determination to ditch his pathetic situation once and for all. He was careful to slide inconspicuously from his chair so as to escape Evie's notice, not that he thought that she would seeing as how she was much too wrapped up in herself. He made his way through the small maze of tables to reach his new friends.

"I seem to have a bad habit of finding myself in uncomfortable situations." Bilbo shook Dwalin's hand before being swallowed up by Sherilyn in a hug accompanied by a kiss on the cheek. He blushed as he couldn't help appreciating the feel of soft skin, silk, and fur. And she smelled _good_.

"You ok? What's the story with them?" Dwalin folded his arms and turned an angry eye Evendím's way. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." Bilbo tried to shrug off his embarrassment at having to be saved...again. "That was actually my idea. I decided that sitting by myself was preferable to trying to squeeze in and listen to their babbling."

"Oh...You poor sweetie," Sherilyn reached out and softly brushed an imaginary bit of fluff from Bilbo's cheek. "How awful for you. Why don't you come with us. My friends are all really nice. I know they'd love to meet you."

"Thank you. That's...very kind of you. You've been...both of you," Bilbo looked straight at Dwalin, wishing he could say more, in that moment, to his boyfriend's best friend, "have been very kind to me but I...uh...ran into Dís earlier and she invited me to join her and her friends."

Dwalin laughed, "Oh, brother! You sure you want to listen to the geese honk all night?" He asked which earned him a "Shhh! Dwalie, don't be mean!" from his girl.

Bilbo chuckled. "I don't mind that...the girls. And I know you've been looking forward to this night for a while and I really don't want to intrude. I appreciate the offer but...You don't need to babysit me."

A smile crept across Dwalin's face. "He said you'd say something like that."

Bilbo bit his lip to reign in his grin. "Did he, now?"

"Hey, doll," Dwalin wrapped an arm around Sherilyn's shoulders, "I got something I gotta talk to Bilbo about, man to man. Why doncha head on over to Jolene's table and I'll join you in a shake."

"Sure, Dwalie." She agreed, wondering what the fellas had cooking. She gave Bilbo a smile. "You'll save a dance for me, won't you, sweetie?" 

"You bet." Bilbo agreed, wondering how curious that was going to be for him, dancing with the last girl his boyfriend kissed. 

Dwalin walked Bilbo to a clear spot in the gym, away from the tables. "You gotta know there'd be broken bones in this joint if Thorin had seen you, over there, like that."

Bilbo nodded, "That did cross my mind. It's a good thing he didn't, wouldn't you say?"

"Maybe. A part of me would like to see those schmucks finally get what for. Thorin would enjoy making good on that."

"Is he really as vicious as all that?" Bilbo asked, looking Dwalin in the eye. "My experience with him, lately, has been more...tender...than anything else."

Dwalin found himself blushing as Bilbo, bold as brass, reminded him of this brand spankin' new aspect of Thorin that he had been getting hints of all that past week, what with the addition of Bilbo to their lunch hour routine as well as the abundance of attention that Thorin has been paying to him. _They've necked!_ his brain teased and he had a hard time looking the kid in the eye. "He was...um...real upset this morning, thinking about you being stuck here with them."

Bilbo chuckled, remembering his slipper chucking incident that morning "Then that definitely makes two of us. Look, I'm sorry this whole homecoming business upset him. It must really bother you to see him like that. Especially since it's because of me. I mean, for all I know you probably think of me as the little fairy who turned your best friend queer." 

Dwalin planted his hands on his hips and snickered. "You are so far off base with that one, Baggins, I don't even know where to start! The first thing you gotta know about Thorin Durin is he doesn't do nothing he don't want to. I mean, no offense, but you didn't make him nothin'. If he's all-of-sudden queer with you it's cuz he always has been and just didn't know it. Believe me, I know how it works..."

"Your brother." Bilbo said with a gasp, embarrassed that he had forgotten what Thorin had told him about Dwalin's brother Balin. Dwalin would understand.

"Yeah, my brother. With him it wasn't much of a surprise, to tell you the truth. Bally always was a little fruity, but Thorin...that's gonna take a little getting used to, is all."

"Of course. I'm sorry." Bilbo said, wondering why it was coming as such a surprise that Thorin's life-long best friend would turn out to be a rather fair-minded fella. 

"Forget about it. Before I left the garage today, Thorin gave me a message he wanted me to pass on to you." 

"He did? What is it?"

"He um...what he wanted me to tell you was...uhh..." Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck, finding it harder than he'd imagined to deliver the message he swore to Thorin he would. "See, Bilbs..he...um..He told me to tell you he...helovesyouwithallhisheart, ok?"

"He said that to you?" Bilbo asked, breathlessly, as he laid a hand over the thumping in his chest, his face radiating nothing but pure love.

"Yeah, the big palooka sure did." Dwalin grinned. That wasn't so hard. The look on the kid's face was priceless. "He also told me he doesn't feel quite right, when you're not around. Like he knows something's missing. Anyway...I've never seen him like the way he's been this last week. Not even when he and Sherilyn..." He shot a look back at his lady love, chatting away with her friends. "He's a happy man, Bilbo. And it's all because of you."

"I love him, too, Dwalin, will all of my heart. I want you to know that. And I promise you I'll never, ever hurt him."

"You better not, pal. Thorin's my blood. Blood is forever, got it?"

"Yes, I understand." 

"Alright. Now, I'm gonna leave your predicament here tonight up to you. If you wanna tell him about it, that's your business. My lips are zipped."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Awww...it's nothin'. Well, I gotta get back to my girl. Speaking of, you got some lipstick there on your cheek. You know, normally I wouldn't leave a fella standing who was wearing that brand, but in your case..."

"Not afraid I'm gonna steal your girl?"

"Nah...just my best friend."

Bilbo laughed as he wiped the kiss off with his handkerchief. "Don't worry! I'm not going to take Thorin away from you. I'm just going to love him, if that's all right with you?"

"Yeah...you _better_. Uh oh, don't look now..." Dwalin spotted a pale-blue chiffon powder puff heading in their direction. "We got the brat princess approaching."

Bilbo turned, afraid that Evie had noticed him missing and wanted him back, but no...it was Dís, boppin' their way.

"The offer still stands." Dwalin said, ready to head back to Sherilyn.

"Thank you, but I'll be fine. Dís is a swell kid."

"And she's Thorin's sister." 

"And there's that."

"Alright," Dwalin took a few steps away before stopping. "You know, when you have that dance with Sheri..."

"Yeah? What about it?"

"I'll be watching."

Bilbo laughed, good and hard.

+

 

Vanity could be a real drag! Bilbo realized that it was nothing but his vanity that had kept him from joining the boisterous group of excited freshman girls and their equally excited, if less enthused about what everyone was wearing and who was dancing with who, dates. Ten minutes spent in the company of Dís and her friends proved to him that he'd had nothing to worry about. The kids all welcomed him as one of their own and before long, Bilbo was genuinely enjoying himself.

"All right, everybody!!!" The overly-animated voice of Pep Club president and MC for the evening, James Hayes, came booming over the PA, accompanied by an ear-piercing shriek of feedback. "I hope all you Bulldogs are having a real good time tonight! To help keep the spirit rolling, it's time for a group dance. Everyone, grab your partner and line up for _The Stroll_!"

Dís watched her friends lead their dates out onto the dance floor. _Oh no!_ , she thought. This was one dance she wasn't going to sit out. Knowing there was no time to lose, she grabbed Bilbo by the arm. "Hey, do you know how to dance?" She asked him, all urgent and breathless. 

"Yeah. Sort of, I guess." Bilbo confessed. He had been his mom's dance partner, doing the box-step to records in the living room, ever since he could remember. And he never missed an episode of American Bandstand.

Dís bounced on her toes. "Can you do the Stroll?"

"I think so." 

"Well, then come on!" She grabbed his hand and began to drag him along to join the other kids, but Bilbo stopped her.

"Wait...Dís...hold on a second. What about Josh? Shouldn't you be dancing with him?"

"Oh..." She looked back at Josh, who was sitting at the table talking to a friend whose date was gossiping with her friends. "He doesn't know how to dance. It's fine...he won't mind. I promise."

"All right, then." Bilbo let her lead him on to the dance floor. He had never done The Stroll at an actual dance, with a real life partner, before but he had spent enough time watching it being done on t.v., as well as practicing to records in his bedroom, that he felt confident he could pull this off. 

As soon as they found their places in the parallel lines of boys and girls, the music started.

  
_Come, let's stroll Stroll_  
_across the floor_  
_Come, let's stro-oh-oh-oll_  
_Stroll across the floor_  
_Now turn around, baby_  
_Let's stroll once more_  


The kids began to move, all of them knowing the simple steps that made up the dance.

_Tap, tap, tap, step, w-a-l-k, step...Tap, tap, tap..._

Back and forth they moved, some of them clapping, some of them snapping their fingers. When the lead couple came together, they did as the song suggested and strolled, slow and oh so cool, dad!, right on down the line. Some kids were really into it, giving their steps a little something extra, while others were happy just to remember which steps followed what. Bilbo and Dís definitely fell in with the former. Watching each other from their respective lines, they found their rhythm, and when it was their turn, they came together, not missing a beat. Bilbo took Dís' hand and they strolled down the line, as cool as cucumbers, their steps including a slick little dip on the outside, their shoulders just touching on the inside. They even did a turn, halfway down, and not once did their steps fall out of synch. The kids in the lines were knocked out and Bilbo and Dís earned themselves a whistle here and a hoot there. 

When the song was over, and the last couple had had their turn in the spotlight, the dancers clapped before breaking up the lines and rejoining their dates and friends. Dís ran over to Bilbo, absolutely over the moon about their dance floor debut. 

"Oh, Bilbo...Wasn't that just the MOST?" It had been her very first dance at her very first high school shindig, and for Dís it had been, nearly, everything she had ever dreamed of. "Where'd you learn to be that smooth? You must've done that about a hundred times!" She gushed, in awe.

"We were pretty good, weren't we?" Bilbo was just as thrilled as Dís that this homecoming business had turned a better corner and he wondered how Josh would feel if he absconded with his date for the rest of the night. Oh! He should've stiffed Evie and agreed to be Dís' date! Grandma would've forgiven him.

The scratch of the next record came over the speakers...

_YOU AIN'T NUTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG_  
_CRYIN' ALL THE TIME!_

It was the King of Rock and Roll himself, Elvis Presley. Dís squealed and Bilbo knew he didn't have a moment to lose. He squeezed her hands.

"Whadda ya say we..." But he was already being pulled along into the the crowd of kids, jumpin' and jivin' to the "The Pelvis". Within a few beats, they had lost themselves in the music and Bilbo had Dís twirling, whirling, and clapping out a mad hand jive in a cloud of baby blue, neither one of them missing a single cue or step. He would have to remember to thank his mom and Dick Clark for making sure he knew how to hold his own on the dance floor. This was the most fun he'd had had in ages. In public, that is.

"Check them out, will ya?" Sophomore Jenny, sitting at a nearby table, pointed out the dancers to her friend Jane. "That is some pro-level maneuvering!"

"Isn't that Dís Durin?" 

"Sure is. And that new kid, Bill something. I've seen him around, but always thought he was a regular L-7."

"Me too. He's not lookin' so square now. Kinda cute. And what a dancer!"

"You're not kidding! How'd she luck out snagging him for a date?"

"That's more luck than I'll ever have." Jane said, glancing over at her date who was too busy reliving that afternoon's football game with his buddies to do any dancing. She and Jenny resumed watching Bilbo and Dís, practically swooning in their seats. 

At the table next to them, someone else was watching, someone who had eavesdropped on the girls' conversation and was none too happy about any of this. Evendím hadn't been particularly bothered when she had noticed Bilbo had disappeared. _Good riddance_ had been her first thought. If the little rat wasn't going to ingratiate himself with her crowd, then she really didn't care where he crawled off to. Except, watching him cut the proverbial rug with...of all people!...Dís Durin, and watching other people watch them, well...how was she supposed to know the creep knew how to dance??? And he was **her** date!

Evie stewed, thinking that she could be...should be...the one out there, being the center of attention, maybe even catching Togo's eye as he danced with that Selena female. Make him jealous, remind him who his _real_ girl was. At the first break, she would have to remind Bilbo who he was supposed to be there with and get him away from that Dís Durin. Who did that conniving little heeb snot think she was, stealing another girl's date? Evendím pulled herself up tall in her seat, waiting for her moment. As soon as the song ended, she would reclaim her cousin.

_YOU AIN'T NEVER CAUGHT A RABBIT  
AND YOU AIN'T NO FRIEND OF MINE!_

Bilbo and Dís were unaware of any of the attention they were drawing. All they knew was that they were having a blast! When the tune came to its last notes, Bilbo ended it by taking Dís by the waist and lifting her off the ground. When she came back down she threw her arms around the sweaty boy, not caring that she was kind of sweaty herself.

"Wasn't that the everloving best? Please say it was the best thing ever!" Dís squeezed Bilbo tight, not caring who saw.

"It was pretty good." Bilbo gasped, his lungs constricted by the ecstatic girl's hug.

"Pretty Good? Are you kidding?" Dís let Bilbo go. _Pretty good, he says...these Frisco boys are loony!_ "You've been spending too much time with ol' Sourpuss."

Bilbo began to wipe away the fog from his glasses. "Sourpuss? I don't think I know anyone by that name." He wanted to chuckle. He knew whose puss she meant, but it was _far_ from sour.

"Oh...you know who I..."

_HAPPY BIRTH-DAY_  
_HAPPY BIRTHDAY BAY-BEE_  
_Ohh...I love you so..._  
_Sixteen candles..._

Around Bilbo and Dís, couples gathered for the slow dance. Dís knew better than to hope she could have this dance with Bilbo. She'd been lucky enough to have the last two. And slow dances...she had always thought that those were only for steady couples. Besides, it just wouldn't be right. She wasn't even his date and he wasn't hers.

"So," She twisted her clasped hands "You...uh...wanna get some punch?"

Bilbo wasn't quite ready to be done. He was experiencing an aspect of high school life he had always thought was going to be denied him. And while it wasn't happening with the boy he loved, it was with someone who, over the course of the past week. had become very near and dear to him. In the space of a second Bilbo weighed the pros and cons of what he was about to say next. _What harm could there be?_ he asked himself. None. None at all.

"What do you say to one more?" 

Dís couldn't help but let her eyes go big. "Really?" She asked, not believing her ears as her heart began to beat like crazy in her chest. This was going to be her first slow dance and it was going to be with the niftiest boy in school. It was positively perfect! Bilbo took her hand and pulled her closer, but not too close. While they swayed to the romantic tune they talked; about music, dancing, American Bandstand and who their favorite dancers were. They talked and laughed and had a ball, never noticing the envious looks they were getting.

+

"It's about time!" Evie thought, as soon as Presley had finished hollering about some dog. She had officially had enough of watching her cousin and that stupid little Durin girl be the center of attention and was more than ready to claim some of that glory for herself. Standing up, she began to make her way towards them. And that's when her favorite song in the whole wide world began to play. "Sixteen Candles" by The Crests. It was the most beautiful, most romantic song ever and she stopped caring about her cousin and decided that this would be the song she would have with her Toggie, if only she could get him away from that ridiculous Selena who had practically glued herself to the poor boy. She quickly spotted Togo in the crowd and...YUCK! Why did he have his face buried in that slut's neck? He had agreed to take the girl to the dance to please his dad, but did he really have to take things that far? She felt her heart sink uncomfortably in her chest and she steeled herself against the pain. Togo was her fella and she knew that everyone knew it. She had no doubt that Selena would get the message at the end of the night, she was sure. With her relationship reaffirmed in her own head, Evie decided to go back to her original plan. If she couldn't dance to her favorite song with her Toggie, Cousin Bilbo would do in a pinch.

Looking into the mass of swaying dancers, she came across a sight that was either going to make her cry or sick to her stomach. There was Bilbo and that Dís, slow dancing and talking and laughing and looking like they were having the time of their lives. _This isn't FAIR_! Evie wanted to scream. If anyone should be dancing to this song it should be her. If anyone should be having a wonderful time at homecoming IT SHOULD BE HER! She considered walking up to them and forcing Bilbo to dance with her instead, but that horrid Durin would most likely refuse to take her claws off of him and then there'd be an embarrassing scene. No...she would slink back to her chair and wait this one out. And when Togo eventually returned to their table, she would give him an earful and a half and he would do something about this. Because no one abandons Evendím Took!

Bilbo and Dís finished their dance, completely unaware that they were the source of anyone's gross disapproval. As Bilbo suggested to Dís that she return to her friends while he grabbed a couple cups of punch, Togo was making his way back to the table where he'd left Evie, the very amenable Selena having run off to powder her nose. He already knew he was in for an earful by the way Evie swung the foot of her crossed leg. Wishing he could just grab Selena and blast on up to the overlook for some hard-earned nookie, Togo resigned himself to facing a kitten with all claws out.

"Did you see them?" Evendím snarled through her teeth, getting more enraged with every second.

"See who, babe?" Togo asked, trying to judge just how much of a shit he should pretend he gave for whatever was pissing Evie off. 

"Them!" Evie pointed at something or someone on the other side of the gym. "Bilbo and Dís!"

"Dís who? Babe, I don't follow."

"My worthless cousin and that stupid little freshman he was dancing with."

"Oh yeah. I saw them. They were really melting the pavement out there. I thought you said he couldn't..."

"He's my date, Togo! And he's out there dancing with someone else!"

"I thought you were happy to lose him."

And she had been, very vocally happy when she had noticed that the runt had disappeared from his pathetic table of one. But that was _before_! Before she discovered he could dance, before she'd heard other girls swooning over him. It wasn't her fault...how was she supposed to know? She crossed her arms and put on her patented pout, the one that worked on daddy so well. 

"I'm going to be the laughing stock of this entire school." She stated, her voice cold and steely and _final_. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Do? Babe, I'm still not..."

"My reputation is at stake!" 

Togo threw up his hands, defensively, "All right! All right!" He looked around. No one was looking their way. No pointing or laughing. For the life of him he couldn't understand why Evie was so hell bent out of shape. He thought that perhaps he needed to rethink his whole plan to marry her and secure his future via her trust fund. No rich broad was worth that kind of aggravation. "I just...don't see what the big deal..."

"Togo Goodbody, so help me!" Evendím snarled, her hands tightened into fists on her knees. Perhaps Togo didn't love her as much as he swore he did.

"Fine! What do you want me to do?" Togo asked, resigning himself to doing whatever she wanted just to get her off his back.

Evendím outlined exactly how she wanted Togo to proceed and, standing up and straightening his jacket, Togo motioned to his buddy and together the two boys headed off to the refreshments table where Bilbo stood in line, with a number of other kids, waiting for his turn at the punch bowl.

"So...what's the deal, Baggins? Did you forget who you came with?" Togo asked as he all but rammed into the side of Bilbo, who had been unaware that a hostile force was approaching.

"Excuse you, Togo!" Bilbo straightened his glasses as he regained his balance, surprised by the assault. "And no, I didn't forget. Can't say the same for my date, though."

"What'd you say?" Togo puffed up like one of those funny little spiny puffer fish. A little intimidation was all he needed to get short-shit Baggins running like a whipped dog. It was going to be almost too easy.

"I said..." Bilbo pulled himself up, filling out every square inch of his five-foot-six frame. He looked Togo right in the eye. "I can't say the same for my date." 

Togo wondered if he hadn't puffed up enough. Short-shit wasn't backing down. _Crap!_ This was going to be harder than he thought. He took a step forward. "You take that back, Baggins!"

Bilbo held his ground. He'd faced worse than Togo. He wasn't afraid. "Sorry, but I don't take back the truth." He could see the other kids were taking a keen interest in the scene he and Togo were causing, including Dwalin who was approaching from off to the right, some other fellas right behind him. 

Togo was starting to sweat. This was not going according to his plan AT ALL! With _his_ reputation now on the line, Togo had no other choice but to amp up his intimidation with a fist pound into an open hand. He played the chivalry card.

"I can't stand by while some little no-good chicken talks that way about a lady." 

"Lady?" Bilbo couldn't help chuckling. Was Togo kidding himself? "Obviously your definition of _lady_ , and mine, are two very different things."

"Oh yeah? And what's yours? Some little freshman kike? You that desperate for a lay?"

Bilbo gasped, shocked by what he'd just heard. How **DARE** Togo say that about any girl much less the sweetest, kindest girl he'd ever known? Hoping that Dís was still at the table with her friends and out of earshot, he made a vow to himself that Thorin would never hear of this. Taking a step forward, he prepared himself for whatever blows might befall him. If anyone was worth a busted jaw, it was Dís. "You take that back right this second, Togo Goodbody!"

Well, shit! Togo had hoped this wouldn't escalate to a full-on fight, but Baggins had just made one unavoidable. Kids were starting to pay attention and crowd around. With his ego and rep on the line, Togo slipped quickly out of his jacket and swung to deliver a surprise right hook. But the surprise was on him when Bilbo completely missed the hit by ducking in the nick of time. Swung around by the power in his fist, Togo recognized Dwalin Fundinson, with back-up, coming straight for him. **SHIT**!

Before Dwalin arrived in time to do any damage (and damage, indeed, would have been done), Mr. Lee, one of the faculty chaperones for the evening, ran in to break up the fracas. "Mr. Goodbody! Mr. Baggins! What is the meaning of all this?" He yelled as he stepped between them. Bilbo could see Dwalin and his team pull up short. Danger had been averted, there was no longer need for aid. He would have to thank Dwalin profusely.

Mr. Lee went about his duty of sorting out what had happened to cause the boys to come to near blows. That one of them was Bilbo Baggins came as a surprise, but then again, maybe not so much. He took their names, letting each of them know he was bound by the rules to report the incident to Principal Parker. They would most likely get called in to Parker's office come Monday and receive some sort of discipline. Being a real level fella, Mr. Lee didn't send the boys home, but instead had them both agree to stay away from each other for the duration of the dance in order to maintain the peace. Togo, pissed off that a simple little scare job had escalated to the point where he now had to face Parker, slunk back to his table where Selena was waiting with a barrage of questions. Evendím, oh so proud of her Toggie, couldn't understand why he gave her the silent treatment for the remainder of the evening. 

Bilbo was bent over, with his hands on his knees as he took deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, when Dwalin reached him. Dwalin couldn't help chuckling as he clapped his hand down on Bilbo's shoulder.

"Well, well, well...if that wasn't a hell of a thing! Bruiser Baggins takes on No-Good Goodbody and comes out unscathed. I gotta say you played that well, pal!"

Bilbo straightened, blowing air out between his lips and shaking his head. "That was horrifying."

"What are you talking about? That was a thing of beauty!"

"Dwalin, I _ducked_!"

"So? As our boy Thorin's always sayin', " _You live to fight another day_." Any fight you can walk away from is won, as far as I'm concerned."

"You didn't happen to hear what Togo was sayin', back there. Did you?" Bilbo asked, hoping that Dwalin's not wanting to rip out Togo's throat was due to missing the ugly thing the jerk had said about Dís. 

"Nah...couldn't make out what he was saying. From the look of how things were going, I thought you might need a hand."

"Thank goodness for that." Bilbo nodded, relieved. That was some exceptionally good luck. He didn't need a vendetta, on behalf of Dís' honor, breaking out between Thorin and Togo. No one needed that. 

"You o.k., sugar pops?" Sherilyn asked as she came snuggling up beside Dwalin. Bilbo nodded as he cleaned his glasses, blushing. _Sugar Pops_. That was definitely a first. He couldn't wait to tell Thorin about that one. 

"Gee wilikers! Did something happen?" Dís came charging over, fairly vibrating with concern. "Some girls in the bathroom were going on about how there was a fight breaking out and one of them named you, Bilbo, but I didn't believe it. Is it true?"

"Oh, Deesie, you missed it!" Sherilyn exclaimed, pressing herself closer to Dwalin and making him wish this damn dance would go and be over already. "Bilbo was a real hero. Won it without a blow. You shoulda seen it!"

"You missed it? The fight? Please tell me..." Bilbo asked, relieved that she'd missed that whole ridiculous scene. That would be some kind of luck if Dís never knew what Togo said about her.

"Yeah! I was in the little girl's room. Are you ok? What happened?"

Relief cooled Bilbo down and he finally began to relax. "Aww...it was nothing, really. Just a bully doing what bullies do. It's all over."

"Well that's a relief! I'd really hate it if you had to put up your dukes. Good thing Thorin isn't here. He probably would have just clobbered them for the heck of it. Say, how about we get that punch you promised me." Dís giggled as she swished the skirt of her dress back and forth. "Get it? _Punch_?" Boy, she sure was glad she'd missed the drama and they they could get back to what they'd been doing so well together: having some fun!

"Dwalie, I could go for a punch, too. And then, maybe a dance with our hero?" Sherilyn batted her mile-long lashes at her boyfriend, who would have given her the sun and the moon if she only asked for them. What Dwalin wouldn't do for his dolly!

"You bet, Kitty Kat." Dwalin pressed a kiss to Sherilyn's porcelain forehead.

Dís held her elbow out towards Bilbo. "Shall we, _mon ami_?"

Linking his arm with hers, Bilbo gave the girl a quick peck on the cheek, grateful that danger had been averted and everything had gone back to normal. "We shall."

The little fish in Dís' stomach did pirouettes for the rest of the evening.

++++++

By the time 11 p.m. rolled around, all of the punch had been drunk, dances promised had been danced, and the kids were ready to blow the joint. Outside the gym, the lucky ones who were old enough to have a license in their pocket and a rod parked in the school lot said their farewells to the poor schmoes who still had to rely on moms and pops. Bilbo thanked Dwalin, again, for being such a pal.

"I have to say, I didn't expect it." Bilbo said, after shaking Dwalin's hand. "And I'm sorry about that."

"Don't sweat it, Bilbs." Dwalin said, pulling a crush pack of Luckies out of the pocket of his sports coat. He offered a cig to Sherilyn before sticking one in his mouth. "I got your back, kid. You're one of us now, you lucky stiff and we always protect our blood." 

"You got a ride home, _sugar pops_?" Sherilyn cooed after blowing smoke elegantly from between her full, red lips. 

"I do." Bilbo ran his hand through his hair, still slightly damp from the sweat he worked up dancing. He had done a whole lotta dancing after his near miss. The one he'd promised to Sherilyn had turned into two. "My friend Jimmy's picking me up. He's probably already waiting." 

"All right then, Fred Astaire, we're gonna jet. You take it easy and, uh, try and have some fun tomorrow, huh?" Dwalin gave Bilbo a knowing wink before throwing an arm around his lady's shoulder and, after giving her a smooch, he lead her away, to the chariot bearing a close resemblance to his pop's Plymouth. Bilbo watched them, trying not to envy them, and their freedom to be in love, out in the open. _One day_ , he thought, _Thorin and I will walk down the street, holding hands. One day we'll kiss like that, out in the open. And no one will say a thing._

He joined back up with Dís and her tribe, and the boisterous teens walked down the pathway that lead down to Colorado Boulevard. As soon as the street came into view, he spotted grandma's Caddy, with Jimmy behind the wheel. 

"My ride's here." 

Dís' mood took an express elevator to the basement. The dance had been a riot and the reason why was standing right beside her. She didn't want to see him go. "Is it your granny?" 

"No, my friend Jimmy, the fella I went to the game with. He works for my grandma."

"Is he a chauffeur?"

Bilbo chuckled. "Something like that."

"Hold on a minute ..." Dís snapped her fingers, a plan cooking in her head. "Mr. Levy is taking Josh and I to Bob's for ice cream. Maybe you and your friend want to join us." 

"I'd love to." Bilbo knew it would be a blast to hang out after the dance with Dís and Josh and Josh's dad at Bob's Big Boy. Jimmy was sure to say _yes_ if he asked. "But I've got a full day tomorrow, and I really should get some z's in."

"Oh..." It looked like Dís' elevator was going to spend the rest of the night on the lower levels. "I see."

"Look, maybe another time. Perhaps we'll take Thorin too. Make a real adventure of it."

"Like Hollywood?" Dís could put up with a little disappointment that night if she had a repeat of their previous excursion to look forward to.

"Yeah, just like that."

Before Dís could get too excited, Josh was pointing towards the street. It was his dad's mile-long, white Buick Special convertible. It practically glowed in the dark. And the top was down.

"Well, I suppose this is where we say _later, alligator_ ," She held her hand out to Bilbo, expecting him to shake it, but instead, he lifted it to his lips and softly pressed a kiss of gratitude to the back of it. Her heart stopped for the duration.

"Thank you for making a crummy night kind of wonderful."

Dís, with her brain scrambled and her ticker just beginning to tock again, went for the least embarrassing thing she could think of. "I'm going to have to thank Thorin."

Bilbo chuckled. He couldn't wait to bestow some well deserved thanks upon his boyfriend himself. "Oh yeah? What for?"

"For being friends with you." Dís gave his sleeve a little tug. "It's one of the best thing he's ever done."

Before Bilbo could reply, he was surrounded by Dís' girlfriends and their dates, all of them shaking his hand and slapping him on the back and pulling him into one or two hugs, which were followed by giggles and not so whispered remarks about how good he smelled. Then, they broke up, paired off, and went to their respective parents waiting behind the wheels of family automobiles.

Bilbo pushed in the button of the Caddy's door handle and pulled it open, allowing the wild rhythms of rockabilly star Johnny Burnette to come tumbling out. Before sliding in next to Jimmy, he spotted Josh, holding the door open for Dís.

"Josh, Deesie! Good night! See you Monday!"

The kids waved back, calling out their good night's. Bilbo got in the car, where Jimmy had a bag of McDonald's cheeseburgers and a strawberry shake waiting for him.

Jimmy made sure to peel away from the curb earning some whistles and a _BURN THAT RUBBER, DAD_! from one of the kids on the street.

Unwrapping a cheeseburger, Bilbo began to regale Jimmy with everything wonderful, and not so wonderful, that had happened. He hoped he didn't forget a thing by the time he got around to writing it all down in his journal. This was a night to remember.

++++++++

After her dress had been hung up, face washed, and her hair brushed, Dís pulled her little pink locked diary out of her night stand. She jotted down all of the excitement of the evening, everything that stood out. And at the very end of it all, she made sure to include...

_He kissed my hand and called me Deesie._

_I don't know, diary, but I think I'm in love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:  
> [ **Crazy Love**](https://youtu.be/nMDyNjz4bwg), 1957  
>  Written and Performed By: Paul Anka
> 
> [ **The Stroll**](https://youtu.be/UrGLNtZ0rEg), 1957  
>  Written By: Clyde Otis and Nancy Lee  
> Performed By: The Diamonds
> 
> [ **Hound Dog**](https://youtu.be/lzQ8GDBA8Is), 1956  
>  Written By: Jerry Leiber and Mike Stoller  
> Performed By: Elvis Presley
> 
> [ **Sixteen Candles**](https://youtu.be/_6jn1XtM62k), 1958  
>  Written By: Luther Dixon and Allyson R. Khent  
> Performed By: The Crests
> 
> Dialogue in languages that ain't English:
> 
> French  
>  **Je ne sais quoi** \- I don't know what.
> 
> Italian  
>  **la moda** \- fashion  
>  **i giovanni** \- young people  
>  **Liscia come il culo di un bambino.** \- Smooth as a baby's ass.  
>  **...è offerto dalla casa** \- ...and on the house (free of charge)
> 
> Spanish  
>  **¡Apúrense!** \- Hurry up!  
>  **Chico Guapo** \- Handsome guy
> 
> Yiddish  
>  **Fershtay** \- Do you understand?  
>  **Macher** \- An important or influential person, someone who's a big deal.
> 
> Hebrew  
>  **Alav HaShalom** \- Peace be upon him, a Hebrew honorific used when speaking of the the dead. [Source](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Honorifics_for_the_dead_in_Judaism)
> 
> While I have a number of years of high school and college French under my belt, I had to rely on the internets for the rest. Google Translate, Wikipedia, YouTube, and various language message boards and sites are amazing sources for information, but I know there is no source like a native speaker. If anyone out there is a native speaker, or otherwise fluent in any of these languages, and I've made a mistake or there's a better way to say it...I am all ears!
> 
> The Pasadena vs Muir homecoming game is one of the all-time great high school football rivalries in the country. These two schools have been duking it out every November since 1947 in a game dubbed ["The Turkey Tussel"](http://www.rosebowlstadium.com/events/detail/turkey-tussle-2016). Pasadena lost the game played on November 15, 1958, scoring only 7 points to Muir's 14. The most recent game was played on November 4, 2016 and, thanks to YouTube, I got to watch the whole thing, including the presentation of both schools' homecoming courts. For the 45th time in the game's 70 year history, the Bulldogs got trounced by the Mustangs.
> 
> Tyrone Power (1914-1958), who was actively bisexual, was a huge star in his day. 
> 
> American Bandstand (1952-1989), and its host Dick Clark, were responsible for making countless pop stars by featuring them on the show. It was also where teens could tune in, every Saturday afternoon, and see the latest dances and what other teens were wearing. 
> 
> Last chapter I mentioned I have a 50's themed pinterest board, but didn't include a link (???).
> 
> [Mid-Century Was the Most, Dad!](https://www.pinterest.com/gloriassteye/mid-century-was-the-most-dad/) on Pinterest.
> 
> I want to thank you for your patience...this one was a VERY long time coming. I'm a full-time college student, once again, and the fall term kicked me hard! Got straight A's, so it was worth it!


	19. Pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://imgur.com/rQ5zNMT)  
> _Thorin reached a hand out to ruffle Bilbo's much-shorter curls. "Looks like someone got their mop chopped!"_
> 
> _"Watch it buster, don't muss the 'do!" Bilbo playfully swatted at Thorin's hand before making a grab for it._
> 
> _"Looks good on ya, kiddo." Thorin felt Bilbo's hand tighten around his and a sense of deep contentment washed over him. He took a step closer. "It looks **real** good. So, uh, are we in the clear, or do I have to drag you behind granny's begonias?"_
> 
> _Bilbo looked down the driveway to the street, then took two steps backwards, pulling Thorin along._
> 
> _"We're safe here."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Chapter 19 is done, and just in time for Summer vacation!.
> 
> There are no new tags for this chapter, but be on the lookout for my very first footnote link! It's towards the end of the chapter and links to a definition in the end notes where you'll find a link back to where you were. Works on laptops, don't know about tablets and phones (should, though, I'm thinking). My education is starting to pay off in exactly the way I thought it would! If anyone's interested in how to do this, [here's the tutorial!](http://teekettle.tumblr.com/post/126920988304/live-example-my-ao3-skins-while-ao3-has-a)
> 
> Grab a drink and some snacks, this is kind of a long one, and I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> HAPPY SUMMER!!!

Sunday, November 16, 1958, 6:00 a.m.

_Tick...tick...tick..._

Thorin lay on his bed, listening to his alarm clock with its comforting little ticks that guided him to sleep every night and were there to welcome him every morning. He lay in bed and listened, knowing that each and every one of those ticks was a reminder that he was one second closer to seeing the man he loved.

Dawn was just beginning to rise, and the world was still quiet. It would be an hour or so before cars would start rumbling down his street, neighbor families on their way to church, and even longer before mama would come knocking on his door, hassling him to get up. He'd be up before that, though. He was itching to talk to his sister and find out how everything went last night at the dance. Find out if she saw Bilbo and talked to him. Find out if he hot through the night o.k.

Stretching his long limbs out, under the sheets, it felt good to spread out and take up all that space for himself, but, for the first time, Thorin wondered what it would be like to have another body laying next to him. Someone he could snuggle up to, all warm and soft. A mop of golden curls on his pillow. A beautiful face he could kiss. Green eyes that would blink awake before shining bright at him. "Good morning," they would say to one another before more kissing and, well, Thorin wasn't entirely sure what else would follow, but it would be wonderful, whatever it was! 

He closed his eyes and remembered all that had happened the previous Wednesday afternoon, right there on his bed, when he and Bilbo had laid close together, touching and kissing. It had felt so good and natural that he had been tempted to work his hands underneath Bilbo's clothes so he could get at some skin, something he had never felt compelled to do with any of the girls he had kissed before. It had been pretty damn thrilling when he had copped himself a handful of his baby's bottom and even more so when he had pulled him so close their boners sorta touched. Although the experience had been exciting for Thorin, feeling better than just about anything he'd ever felt before, the contact had sort of scared Bilbo, who wanted to take things slow. And sure, Thorin knew he was right, but he couldn't help wanting to go back to that point to see what would've happened next. He had some suspicions, but he was dying to know all the things two fellas could really get up to when foolin' around, since it seemed to go against biology and all.

Or did it?

Anyway, what it all came down to was that he was going to have to have a talk with Balin. As embarrassing as that was going to be, he had to do it. He didn't want to make any mistakes or look like he had no idea what he was doing. Bilbo was sure to already know all that stuff, being as smart as he was with all those books he read. Thorin needed to know, for when the time came, he didn't want Bilbo to have to teach him. He didn't want to let his boyfriend down. 

All this early morning daydreaming about Bilbo and makin' it with him was having an effect on the anatomy, and his usual morning wood was bordering on petrified. It was still early enough that he could probably jerk one off before grabbing a couple more leisurely hours of snooze-time. How different this all was from that Sunday morning, just two weeks earlier when he had woken before dawn in a cold sweat, sick to his stomach. It was lucky that he had made it to the bathroom in time to puke his guts out. All the beer he had drunk, at the Halloween party and afterwards, had come back up, leaving him kneeling on the bathroom floor, shivering, a jack-hammer doing a number inside his skull.

After flushing, Thorin had hauled himself to his feet on shaky legs, one hand on the edge of the sink. Rinsing the nasty bitterness from his mouth he looked at his sorry mug in the mirror; sheet-white and a little green around the edges, eyes bloodshot. He splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to wash it all away and return to the land of the living.

_"LOOK AT THOSE FAGGOTS, WILL YA!"_

That's what had done it, woken him up. He had been having uneasy dreams about being back at the party. He'd been sitting on the diving board with Bilbo, who had been looking every bit like Charlie Chaplin with a paper mustache. They'd been having a real good time until those two jerks had barged in on them and broken it up. At the time he hadn't focused too much on what they'd said, only the way they'd said it. Over the years he'd become conditioned to fight anyone stupid enough to holler shit at him. But standing there, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, he heard those words and their meaning was as plain as the nose he'd inherited from his pop.

_LOOK AT THOSE FAGGOTS!_

Who the hell had they been calling faggots? What made them think they could holler it at two fellas sitting on a diving board, just two friends having a beer and swapping tales of Halloweens past.

_FAGGOTS!_

It was a low blow...one of the lowest. Only a real tough with serious muscle would throw that one around without expecting to be smeared into the pavement for his trouble. Thorin wished he hadn't been distracted from getting his hands on those guys. No son-of-a-bitch gets away with accusing him and Bilbo of being...

_"Can I tell you something?_

Bilbo had wanted to tell him a story, but he'd made Thorin promise...

_"It's a secret. I can't make you promise not to laugh at me just...don't hate me. Please?"_

Bilbo's big scary secret had been that he'd dressed up in one of his granny's old dresses and sung a song for his sick mom to cheer her up. Thorin had thought it a really fun story and wished he'd been there to see it, but the poor kid had looked positively sick afterwards and only relaxed after being reassured that he wasn't some kind of loon. It really hadn't been anything to get worked up over, and Thorin ended up telling him that he'd wished he'd shown up at the party dressed like that, that he would've swooped him up in a heartbeat, right in front of everyone.

_"You're my friend, aren't ya? Why couldn't you be my girl, too?"_

_"I'd love to be your girl."_

_Be your girl._

Thorin squeezed his eyes shut. He'd meant what he said, about Bilbo being his girl, as sort of a joke, but then Bilbo had said what he said and it had all gotten flipped on its head, the whole thing. It wasn't a joke anymore. Thorin realized that maybe he really had meant what he'd said. Every moment he had ever spent with Bilbo had been more fun than all the dates he had ever been on, combined. Sure, if Bilbo were a girl they probably would be going steady. But, Bilbo wasn't...

 _Green eyes, sparkling with reflected pool light, looked up at him from under shaggy curls. The soft bow of a mouth, curved in a smile. Cheeks made pink by the beer. The giggles that erupted with every funny word Thorin said._

_Cutie_. 

That's what he'd called Bilbo, out loud, without thinking, before running back into the house. Because...dammit!...because he was! Bilbo was his cute friend. The one he had kept finding himself wanting to touch. He'd wanted to touch Bilbo's face as tears had rolled down his cheek, his hair after he'd taken off his hat and mussed it up. He had wanted to touch him but he'd stopped himself. All because he'd been afraid. 

Afraid of what? 

Thorin opened his eyes. It was so obvious to him now. He had been scared to death that he was exactly what those creeps had accused him of being. Afraid of that little voice inside his head that had whispered, " _Take him, he's all yours_."

 _faggot_.

A cold chill sent ice crystals racing through his body, from the top of his head to his toes. He wrapped his arms tight around himself, wishing this whole thing would just go away, leave him alone so he could go back to bed and forget it all. Turning the knobs in the shower, he slipped out of his pajama bottoms as steam began to fill the room. 

As soon as the hot water had touched his chilled skin, he shuddered, releasing much of the tension that had built up inside of him. He stood there, under the shower head, and let himself be swallowed whole by the water. It didn't take long for his poor beleaguered brain to begin to calm down and clear. 

"Getting a bit ahead of yourself, don't ya think?" He scolded himself. What was all this accusing himself of being queer just because some jerks shouted a word at him? He'd never thought about another fella in "that way" before, but then he'd never really thought much about most girls, even the ones the other fellas went gaga over. 

But then there was Bilbo.

A smile crept across his face at the thought of his friend. Bilbo was just a real great guy who offered Thorin a sort of friendship he couldn't get from the others. He was smart and funny and knew about all kinds of different things that sparked Thorin's curiosity. And yeah, he was cute, but thinking that didn't automatically make a fella queer, now, did it?

 _Did it_?

Shit! He hadn't known what it all meant. What if there was something more than just friendship growing between them? And if there was, how would he ever know? Did Bilbo know? He had been there, too. He had heard what that jerk called them. Perhaps he was laying awake, right that minute, struggling with the same questions. A cold realization hit Thorin. Perhaps...perhaps he needed to end it...hanging around with Bilbo. Perhaps it wasn't right that they were friends and he should stop talking to him...never see him again...just walk away...

"FUCK THAT!" The anger had been instant and Thorin had hit the tiled wall of the shower with his fist. There was no way he was going to pull that kind of chicken-shit maneuver! What kind of asshole was he anyway? This entire line of thinking had become ridiculous since the truth was that nothing had happened! When he sees Dwalin later that day, he'll listen to his best friend gush about "Sherilyn this" and "Sherilyn that". The subject of Bilbo won't even enter the conversation once. And when he does have Bilbo in his house the following Wednesday, and he's inviting him to go to the movies with him and Dís, and feeling that connection like the warmest, nicest tug in his chest, fear never once raises its ugly head. It all just felt right. And it had kept on feeling right, right up to and way past the point of no return, with Bilbo sitting on his lap, their arms wrapped around one another, and their tongues in each other's mouths. And it hadn't stopped feeling right, all week. If anything, Thorin was beginning to believe that he and Bilbo, together, were one of the only truly "right" things there were. If that meant he was a faggot now, well, so be it. The world could go fuck itself.

Thorin fidgeted under the covers as the tension from his erection popped and sparked inside his body. He was relieved that all of that b.s. was far behind him, thrilled that he hadn't lost a friend but gained a sweetheart, and grateful beyond measure that his path had crossed with Bilbo's in the first place. As he slid his hand beneath the waistband of his pajamas, he focused on a picture he held in his mind of his boyfriend, except in this picture there was no Ivy League button down, no sweater vest, no pleated trousers, no white socks, no penny loafers, no glasses. Just his baby in his skin. And every kiss tasted like strawberries.

This wasn't going to take long at all.

++++++++

_Well I know a little spot on the edge of town_

_Where you can really dig 'em up and set 'me down_

_It's a little place called 'The Hideaway'_

_You do the rockabilly 'till the break of day_

Bilbo Baggins sat on the brick wall lining the driveway, furiously working a chunk of Bazooka bubble gum, as he swung his huarache-clad feet, kicking the wall in time to the rock-'n-roll blaring down from Jimmy's pad above the garage. Bilbo was growing increasingly more excited, knowing that he was one guitar-lick closer to hearing a familiar motorcycle rumble down his street, the boy riding it his One True Love. Thorin was on his way, coming to meet mom and grandma and play around in the pool. Then, after lunch, they'll head on upstairs to his room where he'll slip on a record to set the mood so he and his lover man can make up some of the romance they had missed out on the night before.

He hadn't been expecting a car to pull into the driveway, so when one did, Bilbo stopped his kicking and slowed his chewing, wondering who it could be. As the car drew closer, however, his heart skipped a beat when he realized he knew that handsome, bearded face behind the wheel of the baby blue Olds. Hopping off the wall, he bounced over in time to meet the car door as it opened. Thorin was beaming up at him. 

"Hey there, pretty baby! What's shaking?"

"Me, now that you're in my orbit, Daddy-o!" Bilbo giggled, as Thorin, looking cool as a cucumber in brand-new blue jeans, a white button-down, and the blue windbreaker he'd worn to the drive-in, slid his long form out from behind the steering wheel. 

"Mean machine! Is it your mom's?"

Thorin laughed. "Yeah, it's ma's old tub. Needed it to haul my gear." He took a good look at his boy, who he'd been missing something awful since last laying eyes on him at school, just two days earlier. Bilbo was smiling up at him, all straight white teeth, green eyes shining bright. He looked ready for some fun in the sun in a pair of pink and teal patterned swim trunks and a white terry-cloth beach shirt. Thorin took notice that the shaggy pup he'd fallen for had flown the coop, leaving a suave stud in his place. "Look at that!" He reached a hand out to ruffle Bilbo's much-shorter curls. "Looks like someone got their mop chopped!" 

"Watch it buster, don't muss the 'do!" Bilbo playfully swatted at Thorin's hand before making a grab for it.

"Looks good on ya, kiddo." Thorin felt Bilbo's hand tighten around his and a sense of deep contentment washed over him. He took a step closer. "It looks _real_ good. So, uh, are we in the clear, or do I have to drag you behind granny's begonias?"

Bilbo looked down the driveway to the street, then took two steps backwards, pulling Thorin along.

"We're safe here."

But Thorin was already stepping up and taking Bilbo in his arms, nearly lifting him off his feet as he claimed that sweet mouth he'd been dreaming of. The boys kissed, for the first time, free and easy outside, with the noon day sun shining down on their faces as if they were any young couple in love. Thorin pulled back and smiled, a sticky pink wad between his teeth.

"Bubble gum?" He asked, taking up chewing what he'd swiped from his baby's mouth with his tongue."

"Yeah, sorry about that." Bilbo chuckled as Thorin blew a bubble. "Shoulda taken it out first."

Thorin took the gum out of his mouth and pressed it against Bilbo's lips. "Open up, cutie pie." Bilbo parted them, eyes never leaving Thorin's, and accepted the gum. Feeling so bold now and wanting to tease, he took a hold of the large hand, steadying it before closing his lips around the fingers and, very slowly, pulling away. Thorin could feel Bilbo's tongue on the sensitive pads and momentarily forgot how to breath.

"Wow." He managed to exhale, feeling a stirring where he rather wished he didn't. At least, not out in the open like this. "I think you're trying to get me in trouble with the ladies inside that big ol' house."

Bilbo blushed, a bit shook up by his own boldness. "Sorry. 'Fraid I got carried away, there. I've been thinking about you a lot. I missed you last night."

"Yeah?" Thorin laid his hand aside Bilbo's face, loving the way his boy closed his eyes and nuzzled his paw. "I missed you an awful lot, too, baby."

The boys stood, silent, both so lost in the simple act of being together, of _touching_ , that neither quite knew what to do next. 

"Hey..." Thorin said softly, bringing Bilbo gently back from his day dream, "S'pose we should go in, huh? Your ma's probably wondering what the hold up is."

"She probably is." Bilbo reluctantly let Thorin have his hand back. "She's looking forward to meeting the fella who stole her little boy's heart." 

Nerves gave Thorin a good twist of the guts as he tugged on the backdoor latch that had a tendency to stick. Leaning inside, he sure was glad that he'd made that stop before heading up the hill to Acorn Lane. He had a good idea of just how important it was that he make a good impression on the woman who gave birth to the love of his life. When he came back up he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand. "These are for your mama."

"Oh..." Bilbo gasped, his eyes wide as he took the bouquet, a tasteful mix of anemones, carnations, and roses in bright, cheery colors. "Thorin, these are beautiful! She's going to love them."

"I hope so," Thorin said before leaning back down inside the car and this time he came up with bouquets in both hands. One was similar to the first, but in an array of deeper, richer jewel tones. "For granny." He said, "And...um...these are for you."

Bilbo had to blink a couple times before it dawned on him that what he was seeing was real. In Thorin's hand was a bouquet of a dozen roses of the deepest shade of red he'd ever seen, still coiled up in tight buds. "Thorin..."

"The fella at the flower shop told me that red roses are what ya get when you know your sweetheart's the real deal and all that." Thorin handed the flowers to his boy, who was struck silent with amazement. "So...um...do you...do you like 'em?"

Bilbo nodded, the flowers pressed to his nose, the perfume warm and sweet, wrapping around his brain and his heart like the coziest blanket. "They're so beautiful. I love them." He looked up and Thorin could see something was troubling him. Bilbo shook his head, "I'm sorry."

A million scenarios raced through Thorin's mind, a million reasons why Bilbo was apologizing to him, and none of them were good. He struggled to raise the corner of his mouth. "What? Why..." 

"I have nothing to give you."

Thorin cocked his head, genuinely confused. "What?"

Bilbo took another deep inhale of the roses' fragrance before pressing the bouquet to his chest. "I don't have anything to give you. Nothing like these flowers. I'm sorry."

Thorin couldn't help chuckling, relieved that he wasn't about to hear something that would bring his world crashing down around him. He swooped down and stole a kiss. "You are something else, Baggins, I swear!"

Now it was Bilbo's turn to be confused. "What..."

"I'm here, at your house, about to meet your mama and your granny as your man! I'd do just about _anything_ to be able to do the same for you. I'd show you off to my whole damn family if I could! So don't go sayin' that you have nothin' to give me, okay? 'Cuz you're giving me everything." 

"Do you know how much I love you?" Bilbo asked, wishing his hands were free so he could throw himself into Thorin's arms. Instead, he stepped closer, his face raised, his eyes on Thorin's mouth, his lips already parted. And, as if it had been perfectly choreographed, Thorin's hand was on the back of his neck, gently guiding him home.

"I think I know that tune," Thorin murmured as he left kisses, like confetti, scattered across Bilbo's face, "maybe if you hum a few bars..." And they resumed, the song becoming more beautiful, more enticing, even as it became more familiar.

Eventually they had to tear themselves away from one another. Thorin grabbed his rucksack, shut the car door, and walked beside Bilbo up the brick-paved path, through the beautifully overgrown front garden, up to the green front door of number 2941. Opening it, Bilbo stepped back, allowing Thorin to walk over the threshold first. 

"Welcome to the _casa della famiglia Took_...and the odd stray Baggins." Bilbo closed the door behind them, "So, what do you think?"

Thorin's first thought was that his boyfriend lived in a museum; a very cozy museum where they let you sit on the priceless antiques. He looked all around, from the high ceiling of the foyer, to the sunken formal living room decorated with over-stuffed couches and chairs, that opened up on the right, to the stairway that led to the second floor on the left. Works of art, from classical to the exotic, covered the walls along with framed photographs. So many photographs. Everywhere he looked, and everything he saw screamed "rich". But it wasn't the cold and sterile kind of rich like the insides of some of the mansions he'd seen pictures of in his mama's glossy magazines. This house was full of warmth, light, and color. This wasn't some stuffy palace, but a home that had seen a family grow and lives lived full of love. Despite the obvious luxury that he had never been entitled to as the son of a working-class family, Thorin felt instantly at ease.

He took further steps into the house, looking all around, trying to imagine what it would be like to live within those walls. "This is something else, kiddo. I've never been in a house like this before."

"I've always loved grandma's house, even when I was little and we'd come to visit, though it did take me a little time to get used to living here. It's much different than Bag End."

Thorin screwed up his face. "What's a Bag End?"

Bilbo chuckled. "Oh...It's the name my dad gave our house. The one in in San Francisco. I've never told you? I know, it sounds kind of silly. You know how those huge manor houses in Europe all have names? Well, it was his way of making fun of some of his snobbier family members. Let's just say the Baggins side is a little different than the Took side. 

"Which do you prefer?" 

"Oh," Bilbo shrugged. "They both have their good and bad."

Thorin snickered. "I can think of a bad Took." He mumbled under his breath.

"It's name wouldn't be Evendím, by any chance, would it?"

"You're reading my mind, baby."

"Just wait 'til I tell you about last night. Come on," Bilbo slipped his hand around Thorin's arm, "everyone's in the kitchen."

Venturing deeper into the house, it wasn't long before Thorin could hear voices, ladies voices, chatting away merrily as a lively mambo played on a radio in the background. Pushing open a swinging door, Bilbo led him into a large, all-electric kitchen, where three women stood around a center island, putting together what looked to be a pretty fancy lunch; a young, red-haired woman, rows of hard-boiled egg halves laid out beside her, was vigorously mixing something in a white Pyrex bowl while an older, Hispanic woman sliced pickles into long planks, adding them to a relish tray. An elderly woman wearing an apron over her silk and pearls, soft silver hair styled in chic waves, and barely a wrinkle on her face, was arranging poppy seed covered kaiser rolls in a basket. Thorin knew she could only be...

"Grandma! Look what I found! Can I keep him?" Bilbo asked, bouncing excitedly on his toes.

Adamanta Took looked up from her rolls. Standing in her kitchen, with a bouquet of flowers in each hand, was a strikingly handsome young man. Tall and dark, his expression said he was eager to make a good impression, but she could see a touch of apprehension wrapped around his smile. She understood that for him to stand in front of perfect strangers, unashamed of his love for her grandson, took a sort of courage that made her instantly love him. Sending a quick prayer of thanks to God for bringing the boys together, she came out from behind the island, intent on putting the poor child at ease. 

"Why of course you can, dearest!" She said, taking in the beacon of joy that was her darling Bilbo's shining face, and the dozen red rosebuds pressed tightly to his chest. "Come in! Come in! Welcome!"

"Grandma," Bilbo's arm tightened securely around his boyfriend's bicep, "I would like you to meet Thorin Durin. Thorin...this is my grandma Ada." 

"It's an honor to meet you ma'am." Thorin said, narrowly avoiding stumbling over his words as this very important woman strode up to him. Growing up in Pasadena, he knew the name Gerontius Took, the man who had made a fortune in land and oil and helped shape Southern California. Now he stood in his house, meeting his widow, the matriarch of the Took empire and the woman Bilbo had grown up calling "grammy". He held out the bouquet he'd brought as a gift, or a compensation for his shortcomings, he wasn't entirely sure which. "Uh...these are for you."

Ada took the flowers, pressing them to her nose, just as her grandson had. "Oh, Thorin, these are lovely! What pretty colors! Did you pick them out yourself?"

"Mostly. Although I got a little help from the fella...umm..the man, I mean...in the shop."

"You have a discerning eye! They're absolutely exquisite! Eunice, dear, will you please fetch a vase." 

"Can you make that two?" Bilbo asked, wanting his precious roses in water as soon as possible.

"Why don't you make that 3. And we have never stood on ceremony in this house, Thorin, so please call me Ada, or grandma if you like, I will answer to both, old habit. Now," Taking the arm Bilbo had abandoned to see after the flowers, she gave it the subtlest little squeeze, having never given up the appreciation for a young man's _solidity_ , "Come meet my dear friend Maria Elena."

+++

Her hand was small and pale in his own, fragile, as if it were made of matchsticks and twigs, and he held it as gently as he could as she smiled up at him, saying the kindest things to him, about him. He couldn't help blushing, especially after recognizing the spark that still burned bright in her green eyes because it was the same sparked that had been fueling his dreams of late. This was Bilbo's mama, no doubt about that, and she was making him feel as if he were her own, like a lost child returned or something. Thorin suddenly wished, with all of his heart, that he could make her well, that she could get up out of her chair, out from under those blankets and away from the pillows that propped her up. There was no way she was dying, she couldn't be! She needed to stick around cuz she had a kid who needed her, who was on the verge of becoming a man and no one should have to go that one alone, without a hand to guide them. Especially Bilbo. The kid was tough, but he didn't look it, and the game was especially rough for fellas like him. And, Thorin realized, he needed her too. Because he was going to need a mother who knew what he was and _understood_. Who could, perhaps, help his own ma understand, when the time came.

"I'm glad I finally get to thank you, in person, for stepping in." Bella said, wishing she could throw her arms around him and welcome him the way she would if circumstances were different. She had expected him to be handsome and kind and all of the other words Bilbo had used to describe him, but she hadn't exactly pictured just how exceptional he was. Any concerns she had had about her son's first love quickly dissipated.

"Oh, geez, Mrs. Baggins..." Thorin's blush came on as strong as ever. He knew she knew the whole story of what had happened that day. And while he was glad he and the fellas had kept Bilbo from getting a beating, the entire episode wasn't exactly something he was _proud_ of.

"Bella, please, Thorin. It was a brave and noble thing you and your friends did for Bilbo."

"Aww...I don't know." _Noble_? Thorin cringed internally. Wanting to stick a shiv in a Gundabag piece-of-dirt wasn't exactly what he'd call noble. "I'm just glad no one got hurt. And..." he stole a glance at his boyfriend, who was sampling the olives on the relish tray Maria Elena had just brought out. Their eyes met and Bilbo blew him a kiss. "I'm glad I got the chance to meet _that_ character." 

"Well, he hasn't stopped gushing about you ever since."

"Mom." Bilbo whined around the olives in his mouth, embarrassed...but not really. 

"And thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

"My pleasure, Mrs...uh...Bella."

"Now, that's better! Bilbo, my darling dearest..."

"Yes, mommy dearest?" Bilbo abandoned the olives to go to his mother's side, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Why don't you take Thorin to the cabañas and show him where he can change. I hope you brought a swim suit." Bella looked from Bilbo to Thorin, fascinated by their romance. "If not, there's probably an old one that belonged to one of my brothers laying about, though I'm afraid it would be terribly out of style."

"No, thanks anyway, but I brought mine."

"Good. Now, you boys go have fun. And Bilbbie, that's enough olives. You shouldn't eat before swimming. You know how you're prone to tummy aches."

Bilbo, who had returned to the relish tray, made a show of popping one last olive in his mouth before trotting over to Thorin's side to take his hand.

"Don't worry about him." Thorin called back to Bella as Bilbo lead him to the far side of the pool, "If he gets a stitch, I'll get him out." 

"I know you will." Bella tried to call out, but her lungs were not strong enough for Thorin to hear.

+++

The backyard was lush and overgrown, bougenvilla and ivy, different shades of pinks and greens, covered every fence and wall and tall trees filled in the empty spaces so that it felt like a paradise, protected and safe and far away from the world. And it had to be because, while ladies brought out platters and dishes, setting up luncheon on the long serving table, Thorin walked beside his boyfriend, their hands clasped, fingers entwined, in full view of everyone. He nearly had his socks knocked off earlier when Ada had introduced him to Maria Elena and Eunice as "Bilbo's beau". They had both smiled warmly and welcomed him. When Thorin had told Eunice just how much his sister had loved her cookies the week before, she promised "to make a full batch just for the little miss." They knew who and what he was, but didn't seem to be bothered by it. He figured that, instead of trying to make sense of it all, he was just going to enjoy it.

"You can get changed in here" Bilbo said as they approached a small cottage, styled to match the main house. It had three white doors with inset slats, and Bilbo opened one, again stepping aside so Thorin could enter. On the other side of the door was a small room outfitted with a long cushioned bench, a low set of shelves stocked with fluffy white towels, and a colorful rag rug on the floor. 

"This is nicer than my bedroom." Thorin remarked, dropping his rucksack on the bench. Bilbo came up behind him, sliding his arms around his waist.

"There's nothing nicer than your bedroom." He said before pressing his face to Thorin's back, breathing him in.

"You're just sayin' that." Thorin turned and pressed a kiss to offered lips. 

"No. I mean it." Bilbo pushed himself away. "I'm going to let you get changed, ok? I'll be right outside, waiting."

"Got it, kiddo." Thorin smiled at Bilbo over his shoulder as he bent down to work the latch on his bag. Bilbo walked out of the room, wishing he could stay and watch while, at the same time, the thought of what he'd witness scared him half to death. He closed the door behind him.

Thorin unpacked his bag, using the time to get comfortable enough being in the room to strip down to his birthday suit. He could hear Bilbo begin to answer a question his grandma asked him, his voice getting fainter as he got farther away. Sliding out of his clothes, he hung his blue windbreaker on a hook and neatly folded every garment and laid them on the bench. When he got down to his underwear, he paused as he heard the sliding glass door that lead into the house open and an exuberant, vaguely familiar, male voice carry across the backyard. Wondering who that could be, he made quick work of his skivvies and jumped into his trunks. 

Unfastening the clasp, he carefully removed the chain he wore Bilbo's ring on and laid it out on the dressing table. Before leaving, he took a look in the mirror hanging on the wall and, after running a hand through his hair, he opened the door and walked outside.

Bilbo had just started in on the potato chips when he noticed Thorin coming out of his dressing room. Hurrying across the backyard, his heart began beating faster the closer he got. He had often wondered what was hidden beneath those white t-shirts and Levi's. Along with the broad chest and shoulders and nicely muscled arms, Bilbo now saw the dark hair that covered that chest and led, like a path, down Thorin's stomach, disappearing beneath the waist band of his swim trunks and continuing below the hem, down long, thick legs, all the way to his bare toes. 

"I wish there weren't so many people watching us," He said, lightly brushing his hand across Thorin's chest, fascinated by hair that seemed to sworl this way and that, shooting sparks through the nerve endings in his fingers.

"What's the deal with him?" Thorin asked, his eyes on the man he now recognized as the fella he'd talked to, all those weeks ago, at the garage. Jimmy was sweeping up leaves and flower petals out of the pool using a net on a long handle. He looked over and gave the boys a friendly wave.

"Who, Jimmy?" Bilbo's hand dropped, his fingertips grazing the fur that circled Thorin's navel. "We don't have to worry about him. He's just like us. _Queer as a three dollar bill_ , as he'd put it."

"Really?" Thorin took a hard look at Jim, a real regular fella by all appearances. "I never would've guessed."

"You gotta hear some of his stories. They're positively wild! Just have to make sure grandma's not around. So, I was wondering..." Bilbo pulled his hand away just before it got too curious for polite company and, picking up a dark brown bottle from a pile of towels stacked up on a chaise lounge, he held it up to Thorin. "Would you mind putting lotion on my back? I burn something awful"

Thorin took the bottle, giving it a quick toss up and catch. "On your back?" His smile was sort of sly... _knowing_...and Bilbo couldn't help giggling. 

"Mmm hmmm." He nodded, throwing that look right back. "I can't reach."

"Yeah." Thorin unscrewed the bottle cap. "I think I can handle that."

Bilbo pulled off his terry cloth shirt, up over his head, and dropped it on the chaise. He looked up to find Thorin gazing at him, at his now bare torso - pale, soft, _hairless_ \- and he felt a strong urge to put his shirt back on. Instead, he planted his hands on his hips and held his head up.

"Seven." He stated, matter-of-factly, taking possession of his lack of anything he would consider a manly landscape.

Thorin pulled his eyes away from the cutest little dip of a belly button on the most adorably rounded tummy he'd ever seen. "Huh?"

"I saw you counting. There are seven."

"Seven _what_ , baby doll?"

"Hairs. On my chest." Bilbo pointed to the one that resided to the left of a freckle on his right breast. "See? There are exactly seven. I count them every morning."

Thorin threw back his head and laughed.

"I don't see what's so funny," Bilbo tried to hold back his own laughter but couldn't. "Not everyone is blessed with follicles that actually work."

"Only you would worry about somethin' like...wait...seven? Nah, I only got six," He gladly took the slug to the arm he knew he deserved. "Now, you want lotion on your back, or not?"

Bilbo plopped himself down on the chaise with Thorin settling down close behind. A kiss, delivered to the back of his neck, elicited a sigh...nearly a moan...and he grabbed at a nearby towel, pulling it on to his lap for modesty's sake.

Thorin poured a small puddle of suntan lotion in his palm and rubbed his hands together before laying them on freckle-dusted shoulders. Slowly, he worked his way down, running his hands over Bilbo's back, following the raised curve of his spine, and around to ticklish sides and a tease of belly folding over a waistband. He knew it was rude just to think it, but he wished everyone in the backyard right then would scram. He was experiencing something truly momentous, touching Bilbo's body like this. His boy's bare skin. Skin he'd been curious about, dreaming about, wondering what it would mean for him once he touched it. And what it was meaning was that this wasn't some kind of temporary quirk in his makeup. It wasn't some kind of spell he was going to wake up from. What he felt for Bilbo was growing stronger. His... _want_...was growing stronger. He didn't want to stop touching him. He wanted more. 

Leaning forward, he pressed his chest to Bilbo's back, wrapping his arms around him. With his mouth to his ear he whispered, "You're beautiful." He could feel Bilbo shiver from the goosebumps his breath in his ear had caused and it turned him on. 

Bilbo picked up a hand and kissed it. "Do you want some lotion on your back?" He asked, the slightest trace of a tremor in his voice. 

"No, I think I'll be fine without. We should probably get in the pool, doncha think?" Thorin reluctantly let Bilbo go, a lusty fog beginning to muddle his brain. He hoped he could make it into the water before anyone noticed he was at half-mast. "It's getting pretty warm." 

"I'm steaming up." Bilbo set the towel aside, along with his glasses, wishing a certain organ of his would not get ahead of itself and just calm down, _please_!

Standing up, and, with a quick slap to Thorin's arm he blurted, "Last one in the pool is a rotten egg!" And off he ran, taking a fearless leap and creating a tremendous splash as he landed a perfect cannonball smack dab in the middle of the pool. He broke the surface just in time to see Thorin perform a near perfect arch of a dive into the deep end. Making his way to the side of the pool, Bilbo clung to the edge and waited for his boyfriend to surface.

"Wow! That was something! I didn't know you could dive like that." He bubbled as Thorin came up beside him.

"Pop used to take us kids to the Plunge every summer for swimming lessons. I sorta took to it..."

"Like a fish to water?" Bilbo shut his eyes fast as his joke earned him a spray of water shook off from Thorin's wet head.

"Yeah, something like that, ya goofball! I thought about joining the swim team freshman year, but that whole jock scene ain't my thing."

"Hmmm..." Bilbo wiped water off Thorin's cheek with his thumb, loving the way tiny drops clung to the tips of his eyelashes, sparkling in the sun. "I'm trying to imagine you in a letterman's jacket."

"Yeah, well, don't try too hard." Thorin found Bilbo's waist under the water, the opportunities that their bodies, submerged and out of view, presented being too good to pass up. Besides, granny had gone back in the house and mama was chatting with Jimmy. What they couldn't see...

"I took lessons at the Y...once." The big hand on his waist pulled Bilbo closer. It was the first time he'd ever come in to physical contact with a half naked boy and was it ever exciting!

"Oh yeah?" Thinking they could hide below the edge of the pool, Thorin sunk lower in the water, and moved in, nuzzling Bilbo's nose with the tip of his own.

Bilbo nuzzled right back. "Yeah. But I never took to the idea of deliberately flinging myself into the water headfirst. Seemed to go against the survival instinct. So, I decided the aquatic arts weren't my forté."

" _Forté_." Thorin murmured before capturing Bilbo's lips with his own. They held on to the side of the pool, kissing, their bodies touching under the water. And boy if Thorin wasn't surprised when he felt a leg slide up the side of his own and wrap around his waist, locking them together. Thank goodness the water was cool. "You are trying to get me in trouble with your mama."

"I'll tell her I started it." Bilbo whispered, thinking he'd never experienced anything quite as delicious as the sensation of water, currents swirling about him, holding his seemingly weightless body, his bare skin pressed against another. And that other was Thorin. Thorin! Not for the first time the realization hit him like a thunderbolt. Of all people! Thorin, the boy who had been a fantasy but became his friend and loved him! This was really happening!

+++

Jimmy didn't want to break up what the boys had going on. It was going to do him some good to see two young studs carrying on an old-fashioned romance. Might just give him hope for the future. But he'd gotten strict instructions from his boss to keep an eye on them and, as it was, it was looking like their faces were going to become permanently attached if they kept it up any longer. Flipping the switch on the radio, he dragged the dial across the tuner.

_Well, once they had a dance, they called the bunny hop_

_Now the cats are in a trance, all they wanna do is bop_

_So bop, oh, honey bop, well bop, a honey bop_

_Oh bop, honey bop, well, don't stop, a honey bop_

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the boys pull apart, brought back to earth by that cool little chick, Wanda Jackson, and her countrified style of rockin' and rollin'. Knowing it would ultimately take more than some well-timed music to keep up a distraction, he tossed a large inflated inner-tube in to the pool.

"HEADS UP, KIDDIES!"

As soon as the tube hit the water, Bilbo dived after it in a flash. BINGO! It was soon followed by a long, blue float which Thorin quickly claimed, straddling it with his long legs. Jimmy climbed up on the diving board and, after tossing a beach ball that got the fellas racing to grab it, he did a wicked Weissmuller before taking the plunge with a dive that rivaled Thorin's.

"Show off!" Bilbo shouted, paddling his tube in circles with one hand, having lost out on the grabbing the ball to Thorin.

"You betcha, buddy boy!" Jimmy shook his head, flinging water drops, his wet hair shining blue-black in the sun. With a clap of his hands he raised them above his head and called out to Thorin. "Toss it here, will ya pal?"

And the fellas played, horsin' around in the pool, having a hell of a good time. It wasn't long before Bilbo discovered that being lifted by Thorin, up out of the water, only to be tossed and come splashing down, was quite thrilling once the terror wore off. That was followed by a couple rounds of Marco Polo, a surreptitious claiming of an inner-tube, and the discovery that the blue float could hold two teenage boys...almost. It all culminated with Bilbo calling out the "READY, SET, GO!" for a few races between Thorin and Jimmy, with a best of 2 out of 3. Thorin won it on the third, but it was real close, and Bilbo had to swear he wasn't playing favorites. When Jimmy hopped out of the pool to use the little boy's room, Thorin climbed out as well, and sat himself down on the edge of the diving board, his legs dangling from the side. Bilbo swam over and grabbed hold of his feet, using them to bob up and down in the water. Thorin patted the board next to him and Bilbo was quick to climb out and join him.

"Remind you of anything?" He asked, blue eyes smiling out of the corners of his eyes.

Bilbo nodded, inching closer on the board. He remembered that night, Halloween, and the party, and sitting with a handsome friend, under the moon, hanging over a shimmering pool. "I'll never forget the night I knew I'd fallen in love with you."

Those words made Thorin break out in a huge grin. "You know I...I should've kissed you, right then and there."

"What?" Bilbo shook his head, giggling. "Not at the party!"

Thorin nodded, smiling at his baby's pretty face. "Yeah. Wouldn't that've been _somethin_ '?"

"You bet it would've! Someone would've seen us. Besides, you didn't even know that you liked me more than just _like_ yet."

"I should've. I was sorta beginning to figure it out. I was so happy to see you there."

"You saved my life! It really was a terrible party, wasn't it? I, uh...I have to tell you...after you left, I worried about what those two guys had called us." Bilbo suddenly found it hard to look Thorin in the eye, so he turned his attention to his thigh, running fingertips over the black hairs that covered taut, warm skin. "I laid awake in bed, so afraid you would put two and two together and realize that I'm...that they were right, about me, at least. You have no idea how relieved I was when you waved to me on Monday, that nothing had changed. I was so scared that I was going to lose you as a friend."

Thorin remembered how he had considered, even if it had been for just a second, ditching Bilbo because of that very reason. And he hated himself for it.

"Baby, I would never, _ever_ , do that to you. I'd rather cut off my left arm than lose you."

"Don't do that!" Bilbo grabbed the arm in question and kissed it before resting his cheek against it. "I love that arm!"

"You goofball." Thorin chuckled low, ruffling short, wet curls on the most precious head he'd ever known. "Besides, they were right about both of us." When Bilbo lifted his head, Thorin laid his hand on his cheek, just as he had wanted to that night and, for a moment, he was back at that party, the moon shining yellow above them, the pool glowing blue below. He was again a pirate without a crew looking at the cutest paper-mustachioed Charlie Chaplin he'd ever seen. And all he wanted, in the whole wide world, was to kiss the boy. Leaning in, he touched his parted lips to Bilbo's and they kissed, holding on to one another, and, just as they had that Halloween night past, they lost themselves in the fantasy that they were the only two people on earth.

+++

"James!" Ada whispered in her handyman's ear, "I thought I told you to keep an eye on them."

"I am, I am! Two of 'em." Jimmy held up a couple of fingers. He hadn't had the heart to break up the love story playing out on the diving board. Especially since they'd gone from being hunkered down in the water to out in the open. The last thing two kids in love should be was afraid.

"Lunch is ready. I leave it to you to untangle them. _Oh my_!" Ada cast an eye towards her grandson, engaged in a rather _vigorous_ necking session with his boyfriend, and even she had to blush. She could hear Bella trying to stifle a giggle.

"Alright, alright, let's cool it, babies!" Jimmy approached the boys, clapping his hands. "Or do I got to sic the hose on ya? Come on, granny's ringing the dinner bell."

Thorin pulled away from Bilbo, whose eyes were still closed, a sweet, happy smile on his face.  
"You hungry?"

"Mmm hmmm..." Bilbo nodded, eyes slowly opening. "Starved."

"Yeah, me too." Thorin shifted on the board and discovered a pressing matter in his trunks that was going to make it difficult to just get up and walk to the table. "But I gotta take a dunk first."

Bilbo nodded, his hand trying to obscure the event happening in his own trunks, and he followed Thorin, pushing himself off the board and in to the water. The water, nice and cool after sitting in the sun, acted as a shock to his nervous system and helped to relax the situation his burgeoning young libido had created. With ardor tamed, the boys got out and hurried to dry off and put on a shirt before sitting down at the table. 

Lunch was indeed some kind of swank affair, as far as Thorin was concerned, with good china instead of paper plates. Laid out on a long table, were platters full of different types of sliced meat, cheese, as well as lettuce, tomatoes, onions, a newly refilled relish tray, deviled eggs, and a big bowl of potato chips. The name of the game was make-your-own-sandwich and Thorin, as the guest, got to go first. Taking one of the rolls he'd seen Grandma Ada arranging earlier, he slathered it with mayo and mustard before piling it high with all kinds of good stuff. Pickles, olives, and chips filled the rest of his plate and he grabbed a bottle of cream soda from an ice chest before sitting down at the long farm table, at the end, near Bella. Bilbo was quick to follow, his sandwich overflowing with turkey and salami, the ever present bottle of strawberry soda in his hand. 

They might've been sitting in the shade of the house, but Thorin found himself in the spotlight, what with everyone wanting to know more about him. Between mouthfuls of roast beef and swiss he gave them a fairly complete run-down of who he was; school, friends, plans for the future. When they got around to his family, the tender topic of the father and brother he had lost was delicately touched upon and then left for another time.

"We hear your sister is quite the dancer." Ada shook the excess juice from a cornichon before taking a bite.

"Yeah?" Thorin grinned into his soda bottle, while Bilbo nodded vigorously beside him.

"I told them all about last night..."

"I have begged forgiveness from my poor grandson." Ada clasped her hands in supplication. "I must have a talk with Hildibrand about his daughter."

Bilbo sighed as he picked up a deviled egg. "No more Evie."

"Well, that's good. Sorry..." Thorin was quick to apologize to Ada. Ever-dim was her granddaughter after all.

"Don't you dare apologize. I am well aware of the kind of person my granddaughter is turning out to be,"

"I had to listen to, 'Oh mama! You should have _seen_ us! Bilbo is just the _most_!', all morning." Thorin chuckled at the memory of his kid sister dancing around the kitchen while describing how perfect her homecoming had been. What Thorin left off was how jealous he'd been while listening to her.

"She said that?" Bilbo blushed, knowing he had been the center of conversation at the Durin family breakfast table. "I hope your mom doesn't think I was trying to steal her from her date."

"Don't worry about it. She explained the whole situation to moms."

"Oh, good. So you know what happened last night?"

"I heard some of it."

"If you want...um...Grandma?"

Ada smiled at her grandson, certain of what was coming next, "Yes, sweetheart?"

"If it's ok with you, I promised Thorin I'd show him my record collection." _Alone, in my room_. He didn't say those last few words, but he might as well have for how hot his cheeks began to burn. Who was he fooling? Like music was the reason he wanted to take Thorin up to his room!

"Of course you can. Thorin, darling, did you get enough to eat?"

"Sure did, Grandma Ada. Everything was great. Thank you for inviting me to lunch and letting me swim."

Ada leaned across the table and laid her hand on top of his. "You are so welcome, Thorin. And I mean that. My door is always open to you, for whatever reason. You have a place here if you should need it."

Thorin let her words sink in. _My door is always open to you, for whatever reason_. Ever since arriving at the big house on Acorn Lane, he had forgotten something rather fundamental, and it was the stark fact that his love for Bilbo was something most of the world would look upon as something to despise, ugly and wrong. And while he had found acceptance, with Balin and Dwalin, he knew in his heart that he couldn't hope to look for it in the people closest to him; Dís, who was too young and wouldn't understand any of it, and mama...she...it would probably break her heart...her only living son...

He felt Bilbo hook a foot around the back of his ankle, and lay a hand on his thigh. Bilbo, his tough little man, who showed him every day what it meant to be brave when the world was telling you you were wrong to even exist. Except it really wasn't all bad. There were places and people where he...they...were safe. And Adamanta Took had just given him a home if doors were ever shut to him and he needed one. He looked at the small, delicate hand with warm, powdery soft skin that covered his and felt that everything was going to be fine.

"Thank you." He said. "That's really kind of you." 

"I know it can be difficult." Ada's fingers wrapped around his, her charm bracelet clinking against the top of the table. "I've known many men whose families didn't understand their...preference...when it comes to who they love. I've always believed that there is no greater gift in this life than the ability to give and receive love, why should a similarity of anatomy make any difference? Now, I want you boys to run along and have fun. My grandson's record collection is quite impressive." Thorin didn't miss the wink that punctuated her last words.

As he got up, he noticed Bella, who had grown quiet and looked as if she were on the verge of nodding off, reach a hand out, and he took it, carefully, in his own.

"I'm so glad I got a chance to meet you." She said, her words beginning to slur, just a little. "You're a very nice boy. You...make him happy." Her eyes slid closed and Thorin knew that time was quickly running out for her.

"I promise." He said softly as the nurse, who had just come out of the house, carefully took Bella's hand from him. Bilbo slid over, to be closer to his mom, and watched the nurse take her pulse. Thorin ran back to the cabaña to collect his clothes, shoving everything in his rucksack. Before he left, he picked up Bungo's ring, too small to fit on any of his own fingers, and refastened the chain around his neck.

When he returned, Bilbo was standing next to his mom, speaking in her ear. There was a serene smile on her face. "I love you, mom." He said before kissing the top of her head. Then he straightened, and faced Thorin. "You ready?" He asked, a ghost of a nervous twang in his voice.

"Yeah." Thorin said, as simply as he could, trying to keep the anticipation he was feeling from being so obvious that everyone present would know what he was thinking; that something new and thrilling lay waiting for him upstairs, in Bilbo's room. 

Bilbo kissed his grandmother on the cheek, waved to Jimmy, and thanked Eunice and Maria Elena for a delicious lunch. Then, sliding open the glass door, he lead Thorin back, deep inside the house to the stairway, where, hand-in-hand, they ascended to the second floor. Bilbo stopped at the first door on the right. Not saying a word, he opened it and let Thorin enter first.

Thorin had to take a second to look around. The room was big, bigger than his own. Heck, it was probably bigger than all the bedrooms in his house, combined. The whole room was sunken, with three steps leading down, and carpeted, wall-to-wall, in a pretty, pale shade of jade green. Thorin had often wondered what Bilbo's room looked like, even before laying a single kiss on him. Now that he stood in it, it was sort of like he imagined, what with everything looking new and swell. It had all of the things a boy's bedroom should have; desk, bookcases, dresser. There was a neat, new record player and he could see that the bottom row of the jammed-full bookcase was nothing but records. An easy chair sat back by the curtains, a throw pillow sitting on the cushion and a lap quilt folded across the back. It sat next to a table with a telephone.

Bilbo even had his own bathroom.

Stepping down, Thorin moved into the middle of the room. "This _is_ nicer than my room." He said. 

Bilbo looked around. It was the first time anyone outside the household had been in his room, and he suddenly saw it with fresh eyes. He knew almost everything in the room was brand-new; carpet, drapes, lamps, bed, bed sheets, even the record player. It had all been picked out by him and purchased by grandma in an attempt to make him comfortable, so far from home. In a manner-of-speaking, Thorin was right. It was _nicer_ , but no way was it _better_.

"It's not even really mine. You know, it was my mom's when she went to PHS. She shared it with my aunt Donna.

"That's cool." Thorin continued to survey his surroundings. He spotted something real familiar, Bilbo's leather satchel, sitting on the floor next to the desk. Then, something unfamiliar, a navy blue suit hanging from the closet door jamb. Setting his rucksack down, he chuckled to himself when he spotted a cluster of movie star pictures, carefully cut from magazines, pinned to a cork board hanging above the desk. Cary Grant's handsome mug in his baby's room was something he'd half-expected, but the queen-sized bed wasn't. Walking up to it, he picked up a much-loved stuffed Lassie dog which had been sitting on the bedspread as if it was keeping guard on the place.

"That's a lot of space for one little man. You ever get lost?" He asked. Bilbo took the Lassie, giving it a kiss to the nose that had lost most of its color to countless past kisses. 

"I leave a trail of bread crumbs. But...maybe I knew I'd be needing room for more than just myself." The words shook him with their implication. His pulse kicked up a couple of notches.

Thorin's heart tripped in his chest. "Listen, baby, your grandma's downstairs." 

"I know. You need to keep reminding me of that. I might forget and get ahead of myself."

Thorin reached out, patting the Lassie on the head. "How would you go about getting ahead of yourself?"

Bilbo squeezed the Lassie to his chest, his eyes locked with Thorin's. "By asking you to take all of your clothes off for me. For starters." 

"Your grandma's downstairs." Thorin said, uncomfortably aware that he was only wearing a pair of swim trunks and a t-shirt. He was already half-way there. It would take no time at all.

"I know." Bilbo chuckled, nervously, waving his hand, his Lassie crushed against him. "Just...please...forget I said that! See? I'm getting ahead..."

"No, cutie, that reminder was for me."

Bilbo gave Thorin a jitterly smile as his pulse pounded, an unattractive sweat breaking out among his hairline. Quickly, he looked around, needing a distraction. And there it was, sitting on the table near the window. With Lassie still clutched tight in his arms, he went and picked up the picture frame, handing it to Thorin.

"Here. Mom and me. I think I was ten or so."

Thorin looked at the color snapshot. It was of a beautiful young woman, sitting in a park, a row of houses that were quintessentially San Francisco behind her. She looked happy, the sun setting off flicks of fire in her auburn hair. Sitting in her lap was a chubby cheeked little boy wearing a red Frosty the Snowman sweater, grass stains on the knees of his jeans. Thorin looked closely at him; loopy blonde curls, glasses, a little pink button of a nose. It was Bilbo in miniature. Even with the missing front teeth he knew that face. He chuckled quietly.

"That's one cute little squirt. Your...uh...your mom...she's a real looker. "

Bilbo rested his check against Thorin's arm, "She is. Grandma took that picture on one of her visits, I remember. I'll never forget that sweater. It was my favorite."

Thorin set the frame back down and picked up its mate. That one was a black and white of a man; fair, curly hair and heavy-rimmed glasses, sitting at a desk, behind a typewriter. Through the open window behind him was a backdrop of rooftops that led down to the San Francisco Bay. Again, Thorin found himself looking at a face he knew, this time in a fully grown, adult form. Heck, if he didn't know Bilbo the way he did he'd swear it _was_ him. Except, it wasn't. There was something in the eyes, and in the set of his mouth. Even though the man was smiling, he didn't exactly look happy.

"It's your pop." 

"That's him. Look," Bilbo pointed to the picture, one his favorites of all his father left behind, "at his hand, there, you can kind of see he's wearing the ring."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin looked closer and sure enough, he could make out a band on the right hand.

"He was a writer."

"Like father like son."

Bilbo huffed a little. "Hmm...I suppose." He was grateful to his father for passing on his love of writing, but he was nothing like his father, he would make sure of that. Taking the picture from Thorin, he placed it back on the table, next to a dry, faded white carnation laying on a piece of tissue. 

Thorin looked at the pictures on the table, at the shadows left by a family disappearing and he had to know. "So...baby...about you mom."

"Yes?" 

"How is she...I mean...how much time does she have?"

Bilbo bowed his head, hugging his Lassie, his mouth pressed to the matted synthetic fur. She had been with him when he learned that daddy wasn't coming home anymore and she would be with him...when mom...

"Dr. Stokesbury came to see her the other day. He told us it could be four weeks or four months. I think it's going to be soon, though. She's lived much longer than anyone thought, but I can tell she's getting tired, what with the pain and everything. I'm glad you met her today. I wanted her to see that I'll be ok. She's been worried that I wouldn't have any friends to be with me when the time comes." He welcomed being pulled within the sheltering embrace of Thorin's arms, because there he felt safe enough let go of the tears he'd been holding in. 

Thorin held his boy, kissed the top of his head, and cooed to him. "I'm with you, baby." He said, "anytime you need me, I'll be here." He said this while fighting his own tears. Why did things like this have to happen to good people like Bilbo and his mom. How was any of this fair?

Bilbo lifted his head before too much snot found its way onto poor Lassie girl. He smiled through his sniffles up at Thorin who bent down for a salty kiss. "Thank you." Bilbo said. 

"Aww...what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't stick by you, huh?" Thorin wiped the tears off Bilbo's cheek.

Bilbo held on for a little bit longer, finding in Thorin all of the strength he believed he needed. Eventually, though, he gently extricated himself from those loving arms, plopped Lassie back on the bed, and grabbed a couple hankies from the top dresser drawer; one to blow his nose, another to clean his rain splattered glasses. He hadn't brought Thorin to his room to sob on his shoulder and there was no room in romance for a head full of mucus. "I have an idea." He informed as he dropped to his knees in front of a stack of records leaning against the legs of the record player. "I think you're going to like it."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin, curious, watched Bilbo rifle through the records until it looked like he found the right one. Bilbo placed the large black disc on the turntable, lowering the needle onto the grooves without a scritch.

_In the middle of a kiss_

_Suddenly it dawned on me_

Bilbo held out his hand. "Would you care to dance?"

Thorin chuckled as he gave his little bare-foot Romeo his hand. "Gotta tell ya, kiddo, I never learned how."

"There's nothing to it. You just...here...put your hand on my shoulder...I'll lead, is that ok?"

"You can lead me anywhere." 

Bilbo blushed as he laid his hand on Thorin's waist. "Now, just...kind of...let me move you in time to the music..."

_In the middle of a kiss_

_I knew you were mine_

_In the middle of a sweet embrace_

_That you at first resented_

_Remember how surprised we were_

_To find we really meant it_

And they danced, together, slowly and a little awkwardly, but it wasn't about form with them. It was all about _touching_ , holding each other close. "How am I doing?" Thorin asked, proud of himself that he hadn't stepped on his lover man's toes. Yet.

"You're doing just fine. Did you really hear all about last night?"

"Just the part where you tore it up on the dance floor...and almost got ko'd by Togo Goodbody."

Bilbo stiffened. "She told you that? She wasn't there when it happened!"

"Yeah, she told me that, too. Moms thinks you're a smart boy for ducking."

Bilbo wanted to sink into the ground. "I didn't want to make a scene."

"I'm glad you ducked. I'd have to rearrange Goodbody's face if he'd laid a hand on you."

"You're not going after him?"

"Nah....unless you want me to".

"No no no! He's not worth you getting kicked out of school! Anyway, Evie probably put him up to it."

Thorin sneered at the sound of Bilbo's spoiled cousin's name. "Listening to your grandma, I don't envy ol' Ever-dim."

Bilbo chuckled. "Neither do I. Good riddance to her, is what I say! So...I got to dance with your old flame, last night." When Thorin looked confused he helped him out. "Sherilyn. You should've seen her. She was absolutely stunning."

"Oh yeah? You know, it's kinda funny. I mean, I know she's beautiful...and we had some laughs together..but, ever since you and me being a thing...I know she was never my flame."

"I think that might be because you prefer men."

"It's because I'm into _you_ , baby." And he laid a smooch on his guy that made Bilbo's toes positively curl. All pretense at dancing was forgotten as they sang their song, the one with no words just a lot of lip and tongue work. When a crick developed in his neck, Bilbo decided they needed to take their duet to a level playing field. Making the hard pull away from his man, he grabbed the lap blanket from the easy chair and laid it out on the carpet. Grabbing a couple of pillows from his bed he tossed them on the blanket, but not before turning Lassie around to face the wall. He set his glasses down on the table.

After lowering himself to the blanket, Bilbo held up a hand to Thorin who was looking like he was being offered the key to all of the mysteries of life and uncertain if he was ready for so much knowledge. "Baby," he breathed, "your granny, you know, she's..."

"I know." Bilbo nodded, his fingertips finding Thorin's and shooting sparks and that was all it took! Thorin was on the blanket, his head on the pillow, his hands and mouth full of the most precious life that ever lived. And when Bilbo's hand found its way under his shirt, it had to go, pulled up, over his head and tossed. And he lay there and let himself be touched, explored, worshipped. Fingers teased at the waistband of his trunks and he lifted his head. 

"What?" Bilbo asked, trying not to be embarrassed that he got caught contemplating his boyfriend's erection.

"You wanna touch it?"

Bilbo giggled nervously, his face burning and tingling and his hand _aching_ for what it wanted. He pressed his face to Thorin's chest for a few seconds before lifting it and, before he could change he mind he blurted, "Yes."

Thorin took his hand, gently, with nothing like force. Just guided him. It was so sweet that warm, tentative pressure, along with the gasp of pure discovery that escaped from Bilbo's soul. Then it was gone. Again he lifted his head. "You ok?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Just scared me a little. You're..." Bilbo laughed, "You're really _big_."

"Oh yeah?" Thorin looked down at himself, a goofy-ass grin on his face. He'd always considered the family jewels as rather standard issue, but perhaps he did have something a little extra down there. He chuckled. "Well, whaddaya know about that?"

Bilbo fell back with a sigh, his head landing on his pillow, feeling as if was he was floating on a cloud. He had ascended another level on his journey to adulthood, another point he could check off of the list. And what a point! It's true that touching Thorin's...um...his...you know...his _penis_...had scared him. Just a little bit. But the organ in question was larger than his own...much larger...and rock hard. While he tried to coax himself into making another attempt, Thorin made a move and was suddenly hovering over him, straddling his legs, hands beside his shoulders. Bilbo noticed his eyes had gone a couple shades darker and it sent a shiver shooting through him. He pressed his hands against Thorin's chest. "What are you going to do to me?" He asked.

Thorin hadn't really thought this out all the way. All he knew was that he wanted more of what they had started, but he'd leave the particulars up to his man. "What do you want?"

Without hesitation, Bilbo slid his hands down to Thorin's hips and pulled until they met his, allowing for two swollen cocks to touch, press, crush.

"You sure about this, baby?" Thorin breathed hard with stars in his eyes as his head emptied of every drop of blood. Without a word, Bilbo pulled while pressing up from the floor, and the pressure got tighter and together they moaned, in their own unique pitches and the harmony was as deliciously erotic as what was going on below the waist. Thorin wondered if this was it. Well, not _it_ , exactly, he knew this wasn't goin' all the way but it was almost like it, wasn't it? It felt good enough that he was sure it had to be a fair approximation, although he was still not entirely certain of how it was done between two men, but they had to be close! He couldn't help crowing a little to himself, _Thorin Durin's finally making it with his baby_! He didn't know which base they'd made it to, but damn! It sure did feel like he was on the verge of hitting a home run.

"Oh God, Thorin, I _love_ you." Bilbo bit his lip as he struggled to keep his eyes open so he could watch his boy, watch the beautiful play of emotion on his face; eyes closed, upper lip raised in something like a sneer, a husky _oh yeah, baby_ gasped between pants. They were breathing in tandem without even trying. It just came naturally, as if their bodies connecting and moving together like that truly made one person. That alone made Bilbo want Thorin, need him, even more. His hands stretched out, fingers digging into the firm, round ass, and he held on, greedy, needing to be closer. **Closer**! A glorious pressure was building up inside of him and this time he didn't care if there was a mess. Not this time. 

The bastard of a pinch came out of nowhere. A bit of tender skin, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, caused Bilbo a pain that brought the whole gorgeous scene to a sudden, screeching halt. "OWW!" He cried as reflexes that were geared solely toward preserving his manhood nearly kneed Thorin in his.

"What?" Thorin asked, in a daze of confusion, torn between concern for Bilbo and _that was really good why do we have to stop_? But, when he saw him, gingerly cupping himself, and wearing one hell of a grimace of pain, every selfish instinct flew out the window. "Baby? Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

Bilbo wondered how many times he'd heard Thorin say that in the scant week they'd been steadies. Two? Three? A depressed little voice in his head wondered if he was cut out for this lovemaking stuff. Looking up at Thorin's face, full of concern, he wondered if the fates would be kind enough to cut him some slack one of these days and offer him another chance. He nodded slowly, sort of afraid to see what the damage was. "I'm ok...I think."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to go and crunch your nuts like that." He said, making Bilbo laugh.

"Maybe this takes some practice. Perfect lovers don't just fall out of the box, do they?"

"Some assembly required." Thorin kidded, sliding closer to Bilbo. "You sure you're ok?"

Bilbo squeezed himself and _oooh_! It felt as if his nuts had indeed gotten crunched, the spot _smarted_. Carefully he got to his feet. "I'm going to go check myself, make sure it's all still there. I'll just be a second."

Once Bilbo closed the bathroom door behind himself, Thorin retrieved his t-shirt and put it back on. Then he waited, listening for any sound that might come out from under the door as a gorgeous, technicolor replay of what just happened ran through his head. After only a few minutes, Bilbo emerged. Thorin got to his knees. "What's the damage?"

Bilbo lowered himself slowly to the blanket and, with his hands on Thorin's thighs, leaned forward and gave his man a kiss before sitting back down. "Other than a small blood blister, everything's intact."

"That's a relief. Look, baby, I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologize. We're bound to find the right groove, sooner or later." Bilbo pulled his knees in to his chest and rested his chin on them with a little sigh.

Thorin looked at his boy, a sad, dejected kid, hurting in all the wrong places, which wasn't right after the great day they'd been having. He drew a ticklish little circle on the top of a cute little foot. "We'll get the hang of it, kiddo. We got all the time. So...uh...I remember you telling me about some jazz cat..." He tore up his memory, searching for a name. "Larry something."

"Larry?" If there was a topic that could brighten Bilbo's spirits it was, well, it was books. But right after books was music and especially his favorite kind of music, bebop. He perked up, remembering how he'd blabbed out loud about jazz while they'd been watching Jailhouse Rock. Boy! What a first class doofus he'd been! But he didn't remember talking about anyone named...

"Lennie! Lennie Tristano!" 

"Yeah! That guy!" Thorin was happy he got his boy distracted from his pain. "You were going to play me some records or something."

"I was, wasn't I?" 

Thorin leaned in to deliver a playful smack of a kiss. "Uh huh."

Bilbo hopped to his knees. "You got it, daddy-o! Tristano it is!" And, after grabbing his glasses from the table, he shuffled on his knees over to the bookcase with its lower shelf full of records and in a little over a minute he had a healthy selection of ten LPs which he shuffled back over with. The first one he laid on the turntable was by the groundbreaking pianist.

And so the boys lay on the floor, listening to jazz, talking about this and that, along with a little kissing and hand holding, growing sleepy until they were each blowing some heavy z's. Thorin would long remember it as one of the best afternoons he'd ever spent doing almost nothing at all.

***

**KNOCK! KNOCK!**

Bilbo yawned and rubbed at his face, knocking his glasses askew of his nose. The last record on the spindle had played to the center label and the room was quiet. Well, other than the racket coming out of Thorin, who was laying on his back, mouth open, and completely zonked out.

**KNOCK! KNOCK!**

" _Hey, Buddy Boy, it's Jim_!"

Bilbo nudged Thorin who opened a sleepy eye.

"Is it morning, ma?" Thorin asked as he sat up, yawning and stretching. 

"Didn't you hear the cock-a-doodle-do?" Bilbo gave his boy a kiss before getting to his feet and shuffling to the door. On the other side was Jim Storm, trying his damnedest to keep a smirk off his face. 

"Hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"No, just waking up from a little nap. What shakes?"

"Nothin' much. Granny wants to know if your young gent wouldn't mind sticking around for supper. Maria Elena's gonna teach Eunice how to roast chicken for tacos. Her old man's bringing the kids over. Figured one more will make it a party."

Bilbo turned in time to see Thorin ambling towards him. "Did you hear that? Grandma wants to know if you would stay for dinner."

"Did I hear something about tacos?" Thorin reached Bilbo's side, scratching his belly. He nodded a greeting to Jim.

"Yes you did!" Bilbo nodded, excited about the prospect of succulent roast chicken tucked into homemade corn tortillas. "Only thing is we have to play it cool around Mr. Garcia, Maria Elena's husband, and the kids. He's real traditional, but a great guy otherwise."

Thorin wrapped his arm around Bilbo's shoulders. "I gotta run it past moms, but I'd love to stay."

"Sounds swell! I'll let Ada know." Jimmy gave the wall a pat of acknowledgement, and the boys a wink, before heading down the hall. 

"You can use my phone." Bilbo sat on the floor, sliding records back into their cardboard sleeves as Thorin made the call home to tell his mother he was staying at his friend Bilbo's house for dinner. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Bilbo couldn't help listening to Thorin speak with the faint, slightly tinny woman's voice coming out of the receiver. 

"It's real nice, ma. I'll tell you all about it when I get home...All right, I will...I won't forget...Ok...Bye, ma." Thorin hung up the receiver. 

"Does little Thorie have permission from his mommy to stay for dinner?" Bilbo asked, right before getting bopped on the head with a pillow.

"I dunno, but _big_ Thorin's ma says it's alright." Thorin stood right in front of Bilbo, making him look up, up, up. 

Bilbo laid his hand on Thorin's thigh, fingertips just barely passing under the leg of his swim trunks. "You are big."

"Hey, now," Thorin grabbed curious fingers before squatting down. "None of that." He kissed those fingers.

"If you want, you can rinse off in my shower before we go down to help with dinner. I've got clean towels."

"KP duty?"

"That's right, soldier. But it's fun. Maria Elena will probably put us in charge of making tortillas. There's nothing like homemade tortillas."

"All right, sarge! Sounds good to me."

Bilbo lead Thorin into his private bathroom and showed him where everything was. Before he left, he was stopped by a puzzled boyfriend, holding a hand towel bearing a fancy, scrolling **BPB** monogrammed in green silk thread.

"Baby, you gotta tell me what the P stand for?"

Bilbo stood, mouth open, blushing. He stammered, "Oh. Well. You see...O.k., look! Here's the story...but you _have_ to promise you won't laugh."

********

**8:00 p.m., Durin residence on Lambert Street**

Marnie Durin was spending her Sunday evening exactly the way she liked; lounging on the sofa, a cigarette in hand, a freshly made old fashioned at her elbow, and the Steve Allen Show on the television. It had been a particularly peaceful weekend, what with both her children out of the house for most of it. Her babies were growing up and before she knew it, they'd both be out on their own. It wasn't something she liked to think about, but sooner or later she'd have to face the reality of an empty nest. A very empty nest. But, until then, she had Dís, her baby girl who was becoming a young woman right before her eyes. And Thorin, her handsome boy, turning 18 in just a little over a week, no longer a child. In truth he had stopped being a child some time ago. How proud his father would be! Despite being without him, without a strong male presence in the house, Thorin had grown up to be industrious and independent. She liked to flaunt that fact to all of her friends and family who had told her she was doing him a disservice by not remarrying. "Thorin _needs_ a father." They had all said, at one time or another. And while she had met men, very nice men who could've filled that role admirably, she had been unable to give her heart to any one of them. Thrain had been the one true love of her life and the only father her surviving children would ever know. Both Thorin and Dís were thriving. She had made the right decision.

At about a quarter after 8, car headlights flashed in the living room window. Her Thorin was home, safe and sound, from spending the day with his new friend, who just happened to be the grandson of Mrs. Gerontius Took, a point she had been happy to share with nearly everyone she spoke with on the phone that day. This was the same friend Dís had not stopped talking about after dancing with him at homecoming. While she didn't expect any favors, it certainly couldn't hurt for her children to be associating with society. Any little bit of help to secure their futures would be greatly appreciated.

"Glad you're home, _tateleh_." [1] She greeted her son warmly as he walked through the front door. "Did you have a good time with your friend?"

Thorin dropped the car keys in a dish on the console table, as Dís, who was laying on the floor, looked up from her stack of teen magazines, envious of her big brother. "Yeah, it was good." 

"And you met Mrs. Took?"

"Grandma Ada? Yeah, she's a real nice lady. So's his mom. Everyone was real nice."

 _Grandma Ada_. Well, now, that was certainly a good sign. "And the house? What was it like?"

"Big. Expensive-looking. But still homey, you know, like our house." 

"And you went swimming? I see you forgot to put lotion on. You're going to peel."

Thorin touched his ear, which was bright red along with his cheeks and the tip of his nose. "Yeah, I guess I did." He admitted, while the memory of rubbing suntan lotion on Bilbo's bare skin made him smile.

Marnie took a drag off her cigarette and tapped the ash into a tray. "Does this Bilbo have a sister?" 

"No." Thorin and Dís answered, simultaneously. Siblings' eyes met, and Dís, who had spent the day talking about Bilbo to just about anyone who would listen, pretended to return her attention to her magazines. "Mama, I told ya." Thorin continued, wishing he could tell her that Bilbo didn't need a sister and that he and his baby had matching hickeys to prove it. "He's an only child."

Marnie shrugged. "That's too bad."

"Yeah, well," Thorin grumbled, starting to get annoyed. "Maybe it couldn't be helped, huh?"

"We should have him over for dinner, soon."

Dís couldn't help perking up at this. "Can we mama?"

Thorin felt something like unease topped with a light sprinkling of dread. Bilbo...here? With both mama and Dís watching? Especially after what transpired between him and Bilbo that afternoon. Talk about having to play it cool! "I'll ask him at school tomorrow."

"Unless I see him first." Dís wasn't about to let anyone forget that Bilbo was her friend too.

Dropping his rucksack on the coffee table, Thorin dug in and pulled out a brown paper sack. He set the bag down in front of his sister. "I told Eunice how much you liked her cookies, so she made these just for you."

Dís opened the sack and sure enough, there were easily two dozen chocolate chip cookies inside. This elicited an excited squeal as she jumped to her feet to show mama what Mrs. Took's cook had made her. "See, mama! I told you she made cookies! You want one? They're so good!"

"What do you say to your brother?" Marnie reminded her daughter, wondering if a rich lady's cookies tasted better than her own.

"Thank you Thorin, you're the best!" Dís gushed, throwing her arms around her brother and getting a big hug in return.

"Don't thank me, baby girl, you should thank Eunice."

"I know! I'll write her a note and Bilbo can give it to her for me."

"That's a very good idea." Marnie said. "Why don't you take those into the kitchen and put some on a plate for all of us."

"None for me!" Thorin called out as Dís skipped off to the kitchen. "I had a slice of chocolate cake for dessert!" Dís spun and stuck out her tongue before resuming her trip to the kitchen.

Marnie reached for her pocketbook and pulled out a small calendar. "How about we have Bilbo over next Saturday...the...the 22nd."

"Hmm..." Thorin ran the date over in his mind. "No, that's no good. The fellas and I got a buddy racing his rod that night. Already promised him we'd show up to watch him lose."

"Alright then, the next Saturday, after Thanksgiving and your birthday."

"I'll ask him." Thorin was still uncertain about having Bilbo over for dinner, but perhaps it would be ok. It wasn't like they could hold hands and kiss wherever they wanted. It had just been so nice, at the house on Acorn Lane, to be able to be himself with Bilbo and not hold back what he was feeling.

Marnie wrote _Bilbo_ in the square for the 29th with a small pencil. "You should invite him to go to the race track with you and your friends."

( _"I almost forgot!" Thorin smacked his head. "The fellas and I are going to the races next weekend. Wanna come?"_

_Bilbo brushed the hair dangling down Thorin's forehead back, over his head. It was still a little damp from the shower he had taken before dinner. "Yes." He nodded. "I would love to go. Won't I stand out, though? I'm not exactly a gear head."_

_"Nah..." Thorin took Bilbo's hand and kissed it, loving this private little bench in the front garden where they could say good night the right way. "You're a pal of mine, a real good pal, and any pal of mine...even a square..."_

_"I'm not a square." Bilbo reminded him. No cat with as a cool a record collection as his could be accused of squaredom._

_"You know what I mean. Like you said, not a gear head. Look, any pal of mine is as good a pal of any fella there. Well, almost any. I know who to stay clear of, cutie pie." And Thorin set in to nuzzle a sensitive patch on Bilbo's neck, not too far from a spanking new hickey...his very first._

_"All right, you talked me into it." Gently, Bilbo guided Thorin's head until their lips met. And they kissed while the evening stars twinkled above_.)

Thorin smiled, more to himself than his mom. "Yeah, I'll do that." And he headed back to his room, ready to pull up every memory Bilbo had left on his skin, but not before making a detour to the kitchen to snag one of Dís' cookies ( _I changed my mind, so sue me_!) and a glass of milk.

Marnie finished the last of her drink just as Dís reappeared. She took one the cookies and settled back, her daughter beside her, in time to watch funnyman Don Knotts do his shtick as an unprepared weatherman. In no time, both mother and daughter were laughing 'til there were tears in their eyes. Dís grabbed the last cookie from the plate and snuggled into her mother's side. 

"You know, these cookies are good, but not as good as yours, mama."

"Oh, Dísele, that's so sweet of you to say."

Dís sat up, "But it's true!"

Marnie wrapped her arm around her girl and pulled her back, hugging her tight. 

"I think so too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:  
> [ **Rock Billy Boogie**](https://youtu.be/U-e_7MTWd_o), 1957  
>  Written By: Johnny and Dorsey Burnette, Al Mortimer, and G Hawkins  
> Performed By: Johnny Burnette 
> 
> [**Honey Bop**](https://youtu.be/pBxODaqk-f4), 1956  
>  Written By: Glenn Reeves, Tommy Durden, Mae Boren Axton  
> Performed By: Wanda Jackson
> 
> [ **In the Middle of a Kiss**](https://youtu.be/6B-RwQehWWA), 1958  
>  Written By: San Coslow (1936)  
> Performed By: Julie London 
> 
> 1 **Tateleh** \- Yiddish, _little man_ [return to text]
> 
> Thorin's pop took his kids to the Plunge, or rather, the Brookside Plunge, Pasadena's pubic swimming pool from 1914 to 1987. A dark aspect of the pool's history is that, until the early 1940s, the pool was only open to people of color on Wednesdays from 2-5pm. It was referred to as "International Day", and the pool was drained and cleaned at the end of the day. [This](http://pasadenapio.blogspot.com/2009/10/mystery-history-solved_21.html%20) links to an article that goes into some detail on how the NAACP fought the City of Pasadena and, eventually, won. Unfortunately this victory happened in the early days of WWII and the grounds were being used as temporary housing for GIs returning from overseas. It wasn't until 1947 that the pool was reopened to the public, and this time that meant everybody.
> 
> Bilbo puts on Lennie Tristano's [Manhattan Studio](https://youtu.be/0Y2fzMIZKIs), 1956.
> 
> Steve Allen (1921-2000), is considered the father of the late-night talk show as the creator and first host of The Tonight Show (1954-), the first of its kind. In 1956, he left late night to be competition for the extremely popular Ed Sullivan Show. In my opinion, Allen's show had a more sophisticated sensibility, which originated with its host and his easy-going, sorta hipster persona. Don Knotts, who was practically unknown at the time, made a name for himself on the show and went on to play Barney Fife on the Andy Griffith Show and a successful career. He often played "nervous" in his act and the [weatherman skit](https://youtu.be/mNWZo0UjLNQ) is an excellent example.
> 
> After numerous attempts, I finally drew a [half-way decent picture of the boys](http://bofursunboundbraids.tumblr.com/post/161551259648/i-drew-this-a-while-ago-and-keep-forgetting-to)! 
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with this fic!!! I appreciate all of the comments and kudos and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Coming up next: The boys hit the strip and Bilbo gets a glimpse into Thorin's world. And...Dís gets jealous?


	20. Hot Rod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgur.com/tKh20hf)   
> 
> 
> _“Listen to that baby purr, will ya? She’s got some real **go**! Hot damn!” Thorin smacked the steering wheel. “I promise ya, kiddo, real soon the woody’s gonna be purring, just like this. And when she does…” He shook his head, all words inadequate for what he was envisioning._
> 
> _“What then?” Bilbo asked, watching Thorin, wishing they were sitting in the woody at that very moment, the engine idling strong and ready, and a wide-open road before them._
> 
> _“We're gone.”_
> 
> _“Where we going to get gone to?”_
> 
> _Thorin leaned over, his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear. “Ends of the earth, baby.” He sat back up. “Ends of the earth.” And he gunned the engine one last time before switching it off._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEE HAW! It's chapter 20 and we're going to the speedway! The big excitement (mostly for me) is that I'm posting this on November 22nd, exactly 59 years to the day from when the events of this chapter take place. How's that for meeting a deadline? The date being the same only occurred to me about two weeks ago, so I'm pretty pleased I got it done on time. Go me!!
> 
> As far as new tags...how about...discussion of drugs and drug use. Drug use in the 1950s (including hard drugs like heroin) was not something unknown mid-century, so it is something the kids would hear about, and potentially, dabble in. No "H" for my kids, though. The drug in question is marijuana. I think that does it. Of course, if you come across something that you think might need a heads-up in the tag list, let me know!

**Saturday, November 22, 1958. 7:00 pm.**

The night came speeding at him, its neon phantasms coming fast and shooting past his window, leaving multicolored streaks in their wake, while Carl Perkins blasted through the lone speaker sounding as if he were trapped inside a tin can. As city streets became a freeway, Bilbo held on to the edge of the seat, his eyes wide open, taking it all in, absorbing it, letting it became a part of him, while deep in his belly, bubbles born of anxious excitement roiled about and he let go of the seat long enough to rub his slightly sweaty palms on his denim clad thighs.

A slender hand with coral fingernails patted his knee. “You ok?”

Bilbo turned to nod and smile at Sherilyn, who sat next to him on the front seat of Dwalin’s 1940 Plymouth coupe. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just a little excited, I suppose.” He glanced back to where Thorin sat, miserable, squashed into the corner of the backseat by Bofur and Ellen who were vigorously attached at the face. Bilbo bit back a giggle when Thorin, in response to the groping neckers, shook his head, eyes rolling to the back of his skull.

“Some kids get all the luck.” Bilbo said, saying one thing but meaning another. Sherilyn cooed sympathetically.

“You know what, sugar pops, there’ll be unattached girls there. Maybe you’ll meet someone.”

Bilbo didn't miss the long, deep sigh that came from Thorin’s side of the backseat.

“Hey kitten, I don't think they’ll be Bilb’s type, ya know?” Dwalin took his eyes from the road for a second to toss Bilbo an apologetic face. He wished he could say something, anything, to let his lady know that the kid didn't need help in the department of amatory matters. From what he’d been able to get out of Thorin this past week…

( _"So, uh, how’d it go yesterday?” Dwalin had asked, sidling up next to Thorin in the locker room at the garage, the previous Monday after school._

_“How’d what go?” Try as he could to play it cool, Thorin couldn't help smiling like a jackass._

_“‘How’d What go?’, the man asks!” Dwalin smacked himself on the forehead. “How’d it go at Bilbo’s, ya punk!”_

_Thorin was loving this attention to his love life, but he managed to merely shrug as if bored by the topic.“I had a good time.”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“So, uh, whaddya do?”_

_“I dunno…played around in the pool…ate some lunch…stayed for dinner…helped make tortillas.”_

_“You spent the day with this kid you tell me you're crazy for and all ya got to lay on me is you made tortillas?”_

_“I had kinda gotten the impression that you weren't all that interested in what went on between me and Bilbo.”_

_“I’m your best friend, aren't I? I mean…I think I can handle knowing how you, ya know, fool around with him. ‘Sides, it’s Bilbs. I’ve gotten to like that kid.”_

_Thorin couldn’t help but let the love shine. “Ain't he something?”_

_“Yeah,” Dwalin laughed. “He's a real peach. Now, tell me!”_

_“Awww, Dwalin, brother, it was incredible! See, we were alone in his room, right, doing some dancing and kissing and, before I knew it, we were laying on this blanket, on the floor and kissing some more and then I was on top of him and…brother…it was so good!”_

_Dwalin stood stock still, in shock, his mouth hanging open.“Durin, you son of a bitch! Did you…”_

_“Fundinson! Durin!” Bifur hollered at the boys from the doorway to his office. “I don't pay ya to shmooz! I wanna see your tucheses out there, mach shnel!”_

_Thorin patted an exasperated Dwalin on the shoulder. “I’ll fill you in later, after work. Burgers and beer, on me."_ )

…it sounded like his best friend was getting some pretty serious action. As far as he knew, Bilbo Baggins was the last person who needed help.

“Oh…” Sherilyn snuggled into Dwalin’s side, recalling just how happy Bilbo had looked at homecoming, bopping with Thorin’s little sister on the dance floor. “Don't you worry, sugar pops. A handsome fella like you…it'll happen real soon.”

“ _But it HAS happened_!” Bilbo wanted to shout. He wanted to climb over the seat and right onto Thorin’s lap and show Bofur and Ellen…show them all…how it was done. He re-ran the previous Sunday afternoon in his head, laying on the floor of his room with Thorin on top of him, their tongues in each other’s mouths, both of them hard as granite and grinding away against one another. He wanted so badly to show them all just how good he and Thorin were at being in love.

**_I LOVE THORIN DURIN AND HE LOVES ME!_ **

If only he could, he would holler those words at the top of his lungs. And that’s all it would take to explain everything. And they would understand why he really didn't need to meet any nice girls.

“Don't you worry about Bilbs, kitty kat.” Dwalin tightened the arm he had slung around his girlfriend’s shoulders. “He’ll find the right person.”

Sherilyn laid her head on Dwalin's shoulder. Little Dís sure had looked awfully happy in Bilbo’s arms at the dance. “Maybe he already has.”

Bilbo turned his head just enough so that his eyes met Thorin’s. “Maybe.” he said, his heart skipping as Thorin pressed a hand to his mouth and pulled it away, blowing him a silent kiss.

Relaxing back on the seat, Bilbo resumed staring out the window as they zoomed along the 210 on their way to Irwindale and the San Gabriel Valley Raceway, wishing he could be in the backseat with Thorin, even if they couldn't make-out like Bofur and Ellen were. It’d be enough just to be snugged up next to him, fingers brushing against legs and knees bumping, sharing glances and the warmth that radiated off of each other’s bodies. As it was he’d just have to be content with the dozen or so kisses Thorin had planted on him, earlier, as they stood in the middle of grandma’s foyer. They’d been the first kisses he’d received since Thorin had been there last due to his having had a dentist appointment after school on their regular Wednesday.

( _“Any cavities?” Bilbo had asked the next day, before class. Thorin had leaned forward until his face was level with his boyfriend’s, white, brace-straight teeth bared. Bilbo heated up, what with Thorin’s face so close to his, right where everyone on campus could see._

_“Awww…Get your ugly mug out of my face”, he had said, giggling, as he laid a hand on a whiskered cheek and gently pushed it to the side. He couldn't help noticing a small group of kids walking by, watching them. Thorin noticed them as well and shot them a glare._

_“What’re you lookin’ at?” He had shouted at them, earning himself some ugly looks._

_“Hey…come on…” Bilbo said, calmly, tugging on Thorin’s jacket sleeve, not wanting a scene. “Let’s go to class.”_ )

They had been good kisses, amazing kisses, deep and hungry. Bilbo had held on for dear life as Thorin had lifted him up, off his feet. A week was too long to go without touching and neither of them had been shy about expressing that, even when Ada appeared beside them. She had waited patiently for the boys to untangle themselves before wishing them a good evening and getting a hug from her grandson’s handsome beau. She giggled.

“Here we are, cats and kittens!” Dwalin called out as he pulled up the parking brake and shut off the engine. The raceway lot was jam packed with cars, all kinds of cars, stock and rod, from rattling model T’s, to the latest right off the showroom floor. People, for the most part young and male, milled about, admiring or showing off something with an engine and four wheels. Bilbo hopped out of the car, excited by the sound of revving engines and an atmosphere teeming with pure, undiluted testosterone. 

“About time,” Thorin grumbled as he slid his long legs out from his cramped space in the backseat. Sitting next to those two kids as they had sucked each other's faces off hadn't been his idea of a good time, at all. It had been amateur’s hour back there and the air had been a little too thick for his liking, especially since his own sweet baby had been up front, alone, and out of his reach. ‘ _Some kids have all the luck_ ,’ Bilbo had said, smiling at him, driving him crazy. He would’ve considered himself lucky just to get a snuggle and a hand to hold. He wasn't asking for much. 

Only everything.

“You know, Bilbie, if Thorin’s going to be a bore tonight, you can stick with me and Dwal. We’ll show you a good time.” Sherilyn had to speak up so as to be heard over the sound of roaring engines and about a hundred blaring car radios. She pulled the collar of her faux leopard coat close under her chin, to ward off the chilly night air. A couple of wolves, walking by, whistled.

“The lady ain't interested!” Dwalin yelled as he threw a possessive arm around Sherilyn’s shoulders.

“Thank you, that’s awfully sweet,” Bilbo said, buttoning up his navy surplus peacoat. He followed Thorin with his eyes as his man made his way around the car, coming closer. “But I came with Thorin, and a Baggins never bails on a date.” He was rewarded by the most gloriously guarded look of surprise he’d ever seen on his boyfriend’s face. 

Dwalin was impressed. The kid had to have a set of balls like brass bells to play around with fire out in the open like that. He pulled a pack of cigs out of his jacket pocket. “Oh yeah?” He lit up, taking a drag. “Whaddaya call what happened at the dance last week?”

Bilbo laughed. “Oh, you've got that all backwards. Evendím bailed on me. Besides, she's my cousin. I hardly think that counts as the same.” He held his elbow out for Thorin as Dwalin choked on the smoke he’d just inhaled. “Shall we?”

Brass-fucking-bells!

Thorin wanted to laugh out loud. He wanted to shout: _YOU'RE MY FUCKIN’ HERO_! He wanted to grab Bilbo and kiss him, kiss him hard, in front of everyone, in front of Dwalin and Sheri and Bofur and Ellen and every gearhead and doll cruising around that parking lot. He looked his baby in the eyes and he _got it_! One hundred percent got what Bilbo was thinking, what the plan was. The corner of his mouth raised in that crooked little grin that sent his boy’s pulse pounding crazy like a Buddy Rich solo.

With all the swagger he could muster, Thorin wrapped his arms around Bilbo, lifting him up off the ground. Trying as hard as he could, Bilbo couldn't help giggle-yelping at the sudden rise in elevation while sputtering a not-so-convincing, “Thorin, stop, you animal, what are you…” and faking disgust at being kissed on the cheek, the brush of whiskers making him tingle wildly all-over.

Thorin set his dramatically-fussy, compact burden down and draped an arm over his shoulders, an exaggerated play on Dwalin’s smooth move with Sherilyn.

“Come on, little man,” he drawled in a smoldering timbre. “We’re off to the races. See ya later, alligators!” And with that he snapped his fingers and led Bilbo, his _date_ , towards the cacophonous blast of gas burning monsters.

Dwalin watched them walk away, his best friend in the whole world and the funny little guy in glasses. He didn't understand it, not at all, the whole wanting a fella when there were perfectly beautiful gals all around, but he was starting to get it, Thorin and Bilbo. It was kinda, sorta, starting to make a weird sorta sense, the two of them. He had to chuckle as he watched Thorin drop his arm, slowly, down Bilbo’s back and Bilbo answer with a slug to Thorin’s arm. Dwalin could hear Thorin laugh.

“Sugar pop’s a kick, ain't he?” Sherilyn took the cigarette Dwalin held out to her. “He really brings Thorin out of himself. Never thought I'd ever see the grump laugh like that.” 

“Yeah, he hasn't really, not since we were kids, when his pop and brother were still around.” Dwalin flipped his zippo and lit the cigarette Sherilyn had raised to her coral lips. 

Sheri inhaled, tipping her head back and letting the smoke drift up into the cool night air. “I think it would be something special if Bilbo and Dís were to get sweet on one another.”

Dwalin hemmed. “Yeah…well…kitten…you know, I don't know about that, she bein’ a kid and all. Aunt Marnie probably won't let her start dating ’til she's 15 or 16.”

“Did she make Thorin wait?”

“No, I don't think so, but he wasn't all that interested in girls then.” The second the words fell out of his mouth, Dwalin wished he could suck them back in and swallow them.

“Huh.” Was Sherilyn’s only reply.

“Hey, Bo!” Dwalin called out to the newly-minted Romeo who was leaning up against the car staring into the eyes of his Juliette. “Watch the paint there, pal! We're goin’ in. Meet up with you later, kay?”

Bofur waved, all goofy grin and smeared lipstick on his cheek, before turning all his attention back to the pretty girl with the fingers that were working their way into his back pockets.

“All right, kitten,” Dwalin took Sherilyn’s hand, their fingers interlaced. “Lets make this scene!”

***

“Next up...Number 631! Robbie Stokes driving a ‘32 Ford and Number 149, Alex Pennington in a ‘34 Chevy! Drivers, pull up to the line!”

Bilbo stood on his tiptoes, straining his neck to get a look at the starting line. 

“All spectators, please, move behind the white lines. Drivers, watch your flagger!"

Three...Two...One...

With the roar of engines and the acrid smell of burning rubber on asphalt, the cars were off, racing each other down the flood-lit strip, fighting for the fastest time. This was so exciting! Never before had Bilbo been literally surrounded by so much _power_. Everywhere he looked there were automobiles. Some were like streamlined tanks but most were hood-less, fenderless, chopped and channeled skeletons of their former-selves, tinkered and tailored for speed. And every one of these machines had a bevy of fellas…some real good-lookin’ fellas at that…standing around it, poking and prodding, ooo’ing and aww’ing at the rumbling beast. Included in that statistic was the best lookin’ fella there. Thorin was under the hood, bent over the engine of his friend Tyler’s ‘31 Model A . The two had been jabbering away about the slick, emerald green rod ever since Thorin spotted it and his pal in the line-up of cars racing that night. Not understanding half of what they were talking about, and the other half drowned out by the endless symphony of car engines, Bilbo found himself wandering, drawn by his curiosity, observing this ritual of modern male youth (with more than a few girls, here and there, with wrenches in their hands, hair pinned up, blouses and blue jeans stained with grease). Occasionally he'd meet eyes with a handsome stranger, receive a smile and a “Hey, how ya doin’?”

“Bilbs!” A shout followed by a sharp whistle cut through the racket, drawing Bilbo’s attention like a homing beacon. It was Thorin, of course, standing by the green roadster’s open door, waving him over. “Come on…I wanna show you something!”

“What’s up, captain?” Bilbo asked as he trotted up, loving the way Thorin’s face glowed, now that he was in his element. “You goin’ somewhere?” 

“Hop in the other side! Tyler wants me to start ‘er up. I don't want you to miss this.”

More than happy to oblige, Bilbo slipped into the tight quarters of the drastically chopped Ford. He fit comfortably, but Thorin had to take a couple seconds to arrange his long, sturdy form in the driver’s side. Despite being hunched over, his head still hit the roof.

“Let ‘er rip!” Tyler shouted, and Thorin pushed in the clutch and, as he gave the engine a little gas, he turned the key. The thing roared to life, causing the interior to vibrate along with the rumble and Bilbo grabbed onto the edge of the bench-seat, his left hand only inches from Thorin’s leg.

“Listen to that baby purr, will ya? She’s got some real _go_! Hot damn!” Thorin smacked the steering wheel. “I promise ya, kiddo, real soon the woody’s gonna be purring, just like this. And when she does…” He shook his head, all words inadequate for what he was envisioning.

“What then?” Bilbo asked, watching Thorin, wishing they were sitting in the woody at that very moment, the engine idling strong and ready, and a wide-open road before them.

“We're gone.” 

“Where we going to get gone to?”

Thorin leaned over, his breath tickling Bilbo’s ear. “Ends of the earth, baby.” He sat back up. “Ends of the earth.” And he gunned the engine one last time before switching it off.

***

_♫She’s my dragstrip baby,_  
Got a lot on the ball.  
She purrs like a tiger  
When I feed her al-kee-hawl  
Takes all my money  
To keep her lookin’ neat  
Man, I'm sure proud of her  
When she rolls down the street  
She's my dragstrip baby...♫

Bilbo was having a hard time standing still. The song playing over the p.a. system by the snack shack was one he’d never heard before and he liked it. It drawled and jangled in the air around him, so much so he felt like he was breathing it in, letting it infect him, making him twitch to the rhythm. He worked up a little daydream in which he was the hero of one of those movies made for teenagers, like those Alan Freed pictures with all of the musical acts in them. In his movie, he and Thorin would start dancing, showing the other kids how it was done and before long the whole joint would be jumping around and they would be whisked off to fame and fortune and an appearance on Bandstand.

It was right about the time he was mentally shaking Dick Clark’s hand that he noticed them, the girls. They were standing just a few yards off, and they seemed to be looking his way...no, scratch that, they were looking _at_ him. A quick look around assured Bilbo that he was indeed the focus of their dimpled smiles and batting eyelashes. Heck, these girls were making eyes at him! They were nice looking girls, if a tad over-painted, in their slim, mid-calve length skirts topped with brightly colored satin bomber jackets that their pops most likely brought back with them from Korea. They, too, were keeping time to the music, swaying in their saddle oxfords. Bilbo wondered what would happen if he asked one of them to dance. 

“One for each of us? Good work pal! If they’ve got some wheels we’re set.”

It was Thorin, returned from the snack shack with a small box holding the cokes, a box of Cracker Jack for Bilbo and Good and Plenty for himself. For a second Bilbo wondered if this was what it’d be like if they were two regular fellas, on the prowl for a little friendly (and agreeable) companionship. He had to chuckle at the absurdity of himself as Casanova, a lothario, wooing girls left and right, leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake. He took his snacks. “I already called dibs on the brunette.”

“Awww, that’s alright.” Thorin nodded to the girls, gracing them with one of his oh-so-charming crooked smiles that elicited an eruption of giggles. “I’m sorta partial to blondes.” And that smile was turned on Bilbo who couldn’t help giggling himself. Perhaps he should join the girls...they could start a Thorin Durin fan club.

“Come on, little man,” Thorin said, nudging Bilbo’s arm with his own. “Let’s go watch some rubber burn.”

***

From where they were sitting in the bleachers, Bilbo and Thorin could see all the racing action below on the strip. With every new line-up, Thorin would give his opinion on which car would bury the other with superior horsepower. A lot of these cars were driven by fellas he knew, or knew about. Some of them had even raced up at the dry lake bed at El Mirage. That’s where the real stars were made. A fella who beat the clock at El Mirage could be set for life as an engineer, maybe even finding himself working in Motor City, Detroit, the automobile capital of the world.

Another pair of cars roared down the asphalt. And, as was the case the majority of the time, Thorin had picked the winner.

“You know,” Bilbo said, as soon as there was a lull in the screech of tires. He was peering into his Cracker Jack box, shaking it, looking for the prize. “I don’t think either one of those girls was really my type.”

Thorin chuckled, causing the flame from his lighter to miss its target. “Oh yeah? What makes you say that?”

Bilbo leaned closer, his words for Thorin alone. “Not enough facial hair.” 

Again, the flame missed its mark, but this time Thorin was bent over, laughing hard. That was the funniest damn thing he’d ever heard! Dwalin, who was sitting nearby with his lady, watching the action on the strip, looked up at his best friend. “Hey Chuckles the Clown, ya gonna let us in on the joke?”

“Oh, it was...nothing...just...just this knucklehead.” Thorin wiped the tears from his eyes, as Bilbo leaned forward, waving at Dwalin, who could only shake his head. What the hell was it with this kid that he could make Thorin laugh like a frickin hyena, after all these years of being so cool, like ice? Why Bilbo?

“ _You know why_.” A voice heckled, inside his head. “ _Yeah, yeah, yeah,_ ” Dwalin mentally waved the voice away. Thorin had gotten him up-to-date on the state of his and Bilbo’s relationship, telling Dwalin, over beers and burgers in the backyard tree house they had played in as kids, all about the afternoon spent in Bilbo’s bedroom, where he and his boy had touched and turned each other on. Dwalin understood that a warm, willing body could put a smile on a fella’s face, but it had to be more than just bumping parts that was gluing those two together. It was as if Bilbo had put some sort of magic spell on Thorin, making him remember what it was like to be happy again. “ _Huh_ ,” Dwalin wondered, “ _maybe that’s why they’re called fairies_.”

Bilbo looked away from a bemused Dwalin and back at Thorin, who was successfully lighting his cigarette, the glow of the flame painting the angles of his face a flickery orange and black. Bilbo watched him pull that first drag into his mouth, lips puckered around the stick ever so subtly, then release the smoke through his nose. Blue eyes flicked to his and the cigarette was held out to him, butt-end first, eyebrows raised in a word-less invitation: wanna try?

“You’re going to keep asking until I say yes, aren’t you?” Bilbo was tempted, more than he’d ever been before, to take the offered cigarette. Thorin didn’t say anything, only glanced at him, out of the corner of his eyes, and took a drag. When he released the smoke, it flowed elegantly out of his mouth and back up into his nose. He gave Bilbo a self-satisfied little grin. “ _Oh, the big show-off_!” Bilbo chuckled. Thorin was often showing off when they were together. And, in anyone else, he would’ve seen such bravado as a tarnish on that man’s character. But that wasn’t the case with Thorin. Thorin’s theatrics only made him love him more.

“You know, one of theses days I’m going to take you up on it. I just don’t want to do it here... probably end up choking and look like a rube. I don’t want everyone laughing at me.”

Thorin nodded. “I catch where your drifting. Did I ever tell you about my first cig?”

Bilbo shook his head, dying to hear this story. “No, tell me.”

“Okay, so, it’s me and Dwal and we’re, like, ten, and we’re at his house playing knights or something. It’s one of those backyard family barbecues and my folks are there, Frerin, Dís, I think Balin may have even been there. Anyway, we two geniuses decide that’s the best time to snatch a pack of Uncle Morty’s Chesterfields. You ever had...? Nah, of course you haven’t. They’re real strong, not for rubes and definitely not for a couple of twerps like us. We sneak into the bushes on the side yard...we think we’re being so cool...and we light up. I take this big old drag, swallow it, and instantly puke my lunch up, all over the place.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!” Bilbo tried his best to sound sympathetic, but he couldn’t stop giggling. 

“To make it all worse, Frerin had decided he was done playing in the kiddie pool with Dís and came to find us just as it was all coming up. He goes running for ma, ' _Mama, mama Thorin’s getting sick_!'”

“No!”

“Everyone comes running, and pop spots the pack of cigarettes Dwalin forgot to hide.”

“Hey,” Dwalin interjected, “Not my fault you upchucked. Go on, tell him the best part.”

“Oh no! I’m kind of afraid to hear the best part.” Bilbo said, still giggling, his hand over his mouth.

Thorin sighed and hung his head. “Pop spotted the smokes, saw my puke, put two and two together and gave me a couple of real good swats on the rump, right in front of everyone.”

“He blubbered! _Sorry, papa, I’ll never do it again! Boo hoo!_ ” Dwalin teased, earning himself a sharply hissed, “Dwalin!” from Sherilyn _and_ Bilbo.

“That must’ve been awfully embarrassing for you.” Bilbo leaned into Thorin for a second, trying to comfort him, wishing he could hold his hand.

Thorin nodded. “Ma took me inside to wash the puke and tears off and I spent the rest of the afternoon laying down in Balin’s old room. Lesson stuck for a while. I didn’t touch another cigarette until I no longer had a pop who could swat me.” 

“I’m sorry.” Bilbo said, a glint of sadness in his eyes as he looked into Thorin’s. That look lasted a few seconds longer than it should’ve, and Thorin made himself look away first, taking a drag off his cigarette, knowing if that look had gone any longer, they would’ve forgotten where they were and done something stupid like kiss.

“Don’t you be sorry for me, my little man.” He exhaled. “Not about pop. You know what it’s like.” 

“I do, but that doesn’t make me not wish things were different for you.”

Thorin bit his lip. The only thing he could think of saying was, “I love you”, so he kept on biting his lip, nodding. He felt the nudge of a foot against his, and he pressed back. 

The boys settled back into watching the rods squeal and roar down the track. Thorin smoked while Bilbo dug back into his box of Cracker Jack. He was finding the action on the strip interesting, but the real show, for him, was all the people milling around; gearheads and gals and spectators alike. One of those people, down in the crowd, was a fella, tall and dark like Thorin but longer and leaner, who was walking along the track, not far from the foot of the stands. Bilbo had encountered him earlier, while Thorin had been gabbing with Tyler. It wasn’t that the guy was exceptionally handsome, it was more in the way he carried himself, that caught Bilbo’s eye. There was a sure kind of confidence about him, a cocky arrogance in the way he strutted in his faded, greasy denims, a pack of smokes rolled up in the sleeve of his white t-shirt, the pomade in his hair making it shine burgundy under the floodlights. Bilbo recalled the way the guy had glanced at him, briefly, amongst the cars and the noise, nodding his head in acknowledgment without a word or a smile. And he remembered the way his heart had done an involuntary little flip, despite the fact the man of his dreams was just two cars over. 

“See something you like?” 

The husky whisper caused Bilbo to come crashing out of his revery, and he nearly dropped his Cracker Jack, embarrassed. “What? No! No...he’s just...someone...someone I saw earlier. Down below. That’s all.”

“Don’t blame ya.” Thorin ground his cigarette butt out under his boot. “He’s a fine lookin’ stud.”

“Really? Do you think so?”

Thorin’s guts gave themselves a nervous twist. “Do I think so, what?”

Bilbo took a quick look around. There was no one sitting near them in the stands, besides Dwalin and Sherilyn, and the noise from the cars, the announcer, and the people, made it near impossible for voices to travel very far. None the less, Bilbo leaned in close. “Do you find him attractive?”

Well, he had said it, hadn’t he? The guy was good-looking, he couldn’t deny it now. He watched him swagger off into the crowd. He didn’t really know him, only talked to him once, maybe twice, a friend of a friend of a friend. Jerry-something...Gibs! Jerry Gibs. Thorin remembered meeting him, shaking his hand. A warm, firm hand. Dark brown eyes. A mole on his cheek near his right ear...

Well, shit.

Nerves began to itch and he dug into his pocket for his smokes. So there it was! It had been standing in front of him, most likely his whole life, and he had been too damn blind to see. Blind, until he met the most wonderful, brave, and beautiful boy he’d ever known. He had only been waiting for Bilbo to take his hand and show him that loving a man was what he was meant to do and despite what the whole world may think, they were, all of them, so wrong. “Yeah,” He looked at the crushed pack of Luckies in his hands. “Maybe. I dunno, I suppose so. He’s not really my type. I don’t want to kiss him, or anything.”

An image of Thorin and the intriguing stranger, kissing, took Bilbo by surprise, and it brought a tingle to a certain organ that was just beginning to stand-up and take notice of the conversation. He pulled his coat closer around himself. “Thank goodness for that.” He said, mentally storing the image away to re-examine later, “I don’t think I could compete...”

“He doesn’t even come close. No one could.” Thorin pulled a fresh cigarette out, stuck it between his lips, and started to light it, but he stopped and pulled the stick from his mouth. “Look, I can’t stop you from looking. I just want you to know this; anyone tries to step in between us, I will fight for you. Unless, it’s what you really want. I won’t stop you from being happy.” Back in went the cig and - _flick_ \- on went the flame.

Bilbo sat on the cold wooden bench, his arms wrapped around himself, his knees pressed together, his heart pounding as much for love of the boy next to him as for the shame of being caught by that boy looking at someone else when he had no business doing it. He wanted to hit his head against a wall. “ _Go ahead, Baggins. Ruin it! Ruin the best thing that’s ever happened to you! And probably ever will!_ ” He shouted at himself. He pulled his hanky out of his pocket to wipe at his runny nose. 

“If you keep that up you’re going to make me cry.” He said, faking a chuckle. When Thorin didn’t respond, Bilbo tugged the sleeve of his jacket to pull him a little farther down the bench, away from the others. “Thorin, I promise...” He said, his hands worrying his Cracker Jack box. “No one is ever going to come between us. And if I look, it’s just that and nothing else. Nothing else. Because I love you.” Those last words he whispered just loud enough that Thorin believed he felt them more than heard them.

Wrapping an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders, Thorin squeezed, the only society-approved show of affection at his disposal. It wasn’t enough for him, but then nothing he could’ve gotten away with would’ve been. “Good.” He spoke low, his nose pressed against the side of Bilbo’s head, his voice and breath warm in his ear. “Cuz I love you like nothin’ I’ve ever known.”

Bilbo allowed his body to melt into Thorin’s side, his head tipping just a bit, barely coming to rest on a broad shoulder. He decided that was far less attention getting than if he were to climb on to Thorin’s lap and kiss him insensible, which was what he really wanted to do. Besides, no one was watching them, aside from the occasional curious glance from Dwalin. Everyone was watching the action on the track. What did they all care about two fellas, two friends, sitting up in the stands, talking, watching the cars run? He made himself pull away only after Thorin let his arm drop. 

“You know, we’re kind of like cracker jacks.” Bilbo said, shaking the half-empty, slightly crushed box. “Can’t have one without the other.”

Thorin grinned and held out his hand. “How about sharing, Cracker.”

“Mmm...I think you’re more a Cracker,” Bilbo carefully shook caramel corn and peanuts into Thorin’s cupped palm. “I’m Jacks.” And out of the box fell a square paper packet.

“And the little man wins the prize!” Thorin crowed, doing his best impersonation of a carnival barker.

Bilbo shook his box, wishing there were more peanuts in it. “It fell in your hand, do you want it?

“Me? Nah! I know you’ve been waiting all night for that baby to make the scene. Go on and open ‘er up. I wanna see.”

Bilbo took the little packet from Thorin’s hand and tore it open. “I just hope it’s not a whistle.” he said, “I must have ten of those all ready.” And out slid a tiny red metal car, shaped something like Balin’s Chevy. “Swell! We’ve got ourselves a car.” He held it up in front of his eyes and took a closer look. “And wouldn’t you know,” He nudged Thorin’s arm playfully, lowering his voice. “It has a backseat.”

Thorin looked at the little car sitting in his baby’s hand. “That’s one slick coupe, kiddo. Sure you don’t want catch up with those two pretty kitties?” He said, a big joke, before popping the handful of Cracker Jack in his mouth.

“Oh...no thank you.” Bilbo rolled the now precious car back and forth on his lap. “Besides, even if this were a real car, which one of us would know what to do with a girl if we had one?”

“If that ain’t the truth...” Thorin mumbled as he crunched. “At least you could dance with them. Probably charm ‘em right off their feet.”

“Yeah,” Bilbo took another look at the car before sliding it into an inside jacket pocket to keep it safe. “I suppose. Ha! Old tippy-toes Baggins makes the girlies flip their wigs.”

“You know,” Thorin looked down at his hands, thinking of those rockin’ times when they’d been able to touch the boy next to him. “Seemed to me you knew what you were doing that night at the overlook.”

“That’s because I was with you. My dream was coming true and I knew exactly where I wanted to go. It wasn’t the first time I’d kissed you.”

Thorin slid his hands into his jacket pockets, not trusting them on the outside anymore. He wished there was somewhere, _anywhere_ , nearby where he and his fella could have a minute - just one minute! - to be alone. “So, uh, this place you want to get to...have you gotten there yet?” 

“Not entirely.” Bilbo slid his hands between his knees, hunched over and shivering a little from a combination of the chill in the air and the heat building inside him. It was nothing a long, strong arm around him wouldn’t cure. “But I have a feeling it won’t be too much longer.” He chuckled.

“Yeah.” Thorin’s face broke out in an uncontrollable grin, his heart beating heavy in his chest. He knew their destination was right around the corner. “Me too.”

The boys looked at one another and that look left them both with an ache they weren’t allowed to soothe. Despite the rage and roar of the beasts on the track and the hustle and rustle of the crowd all around them, all they could see was each other through air that was growing hot and heavy. Bilbo bit his tingling lower lip as Thorin unconsciously licked his own, his eyes flicking down, away from Bilbo’s eyes to white pearls pressed into a soft, pink pillow. 

His voice cracked. “B-bab...”

**_OwwwOOOOOOOHHHHHH!_ **

An ear-splintering howl screeched over the p.a. system, ripping the moment apart with both claws, freeing the boys from the spell they’d cast on one another..

“ _Callin’ all kitties and cats, dads and dollies! This is your emperor of the airwaves, Perry Allen from KRLA...that’s 870 on your am dial...reminding you to join me at the spankn' new Baldwin Park rec center next Saturday for an evening of rock and roll! We’ll be spinning the discs you love the best! And it’ll all be brought to you by the fine folks at In ‘N Out, the drive-through answer to you dinner time woes..._ ”

Thorin sat up and took a deep breath. He needed to step away from Bilbo, just for a moment, to clear his head of the almost desperate want that was eating away at his insides. “I gotta hit the can, kid. I’ll be right back.” he said, patting his boy on the back. Then he was up, making his way down the stands, Dwalin following close behind. Bilbo watched Thorin, feeling the loss of that body beside him as if he’d been stripped and was sitting there, alone and naked, for everyone to see. With his saddle oxfords propped-up on the bench below, he curled over himself, hugging his knees.

“Hey sugar pops, want some company?”

It was Sherilyn, standing beside him, smiling down at him, and he no longer felt so indecently exposed.

“Please.” He said, and she did, sitting so close her arm brushed his.

“Seems our fellas had some business to attend to. Brrr...” Sherilyn shivered in her faux-leopard, ignoring the jerk of Bilbo’s head at the words _our fellas_ , “The air’s getting a little chilly willy. You warm enough?”

“Yeah,” Bilbo blew hot breath on his hands before shoving them in his pockets, wondering what exactly Sheri had meant by _our fellas_. “This is like a summer night, back home.” His chuckle came out a little frayed at the edges. _Our fellas_?

“Oh, that’s right, you’re from Frisco, aren’t ya? I hear it’s a blast. Never been, but maybe Dwalie and I’ll visit after we’re married.” 

_Married_? The news came as a surprise. Surely Sherilyn and Dwalin were far too young, even if they were to wait until after graduation. “ _Would you marry Thorin, right this second, if you could?_ ” His inner voice asked and he could only answer, “ _In a heartbeat._ ” 

“You’re getting married? That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” 

“Oh...” Sherilyn slid her arm under and around Bilbo’s and snuggled into him. “It’s a little early for that. Dwalie doesn’t know yet. But I know, Bilbie. I know he’s the one. Do you know what I mean?” She asked, and the search in her eyes, looking into Bilbo’s, made him blush a little. He didn’t know quite how to answer.

“ _Do I know what you mean? Of course, I do. But will you know what I mean?_ ” he wanted to say. Perhaps Sherilyn already knew and she was being gentle in letting him know she knew. Dwalin could’ve told her... or maybe even Thorin. They were close, once. But what if she didn’t know? Oh, this was silly. It wasn’t as if he was going to actually tell her anything... specific. He decided to just answer the question.

“Yeah.” He nodded, a sudden combination of fear and elation, both from speaking honestly, giving him the nervous shivers. “I do.”

Sherilyn’s mouth opened, as if she was going to say something, but all she made was a little squeak, down in her throat. You see, she had been telling the truth when she’d said that she knew Dwalin was the one she’d marry. She had known it for a whole week, ever since the day after homecoming. She loved Dwalin and she was sure as all get out that he loved her. But the thing that wasn’t known, outside of her diary and her best friend Jolene, was that up until a couple of months ago, she had been as equally sure that her one true love was none other than Thorin Durin. Ever since her first day at Pasadena High, two years earlier, when she had first laid eyes on him she had known that Thorin was the one she would marry. The boy had been topping six feet at 15, with a dark, glossy wave on his head, a day’s worth of stubble on his not-a-boy-but-not-quite-a-man face, and the bluest blue eyes she had ever seen. She was quick to ask her new girl friends about him, only to be told that Thorin Durin never had time for anyone except his friends and anything with wheels attached. Sure, he was dreamy enough, a real James Dean-type, but when it came to girls, he was pure dragsville. 

Not one to be turned off the path to her dream, Sherilyn had put together a plan, one that saw her slowly becoming friendly with Thorin; a “Hi, Thorin” accompanied by a sweet smile at the lockers, questions about the previous night’s algebra homework, and the one that finally established an open line of communication, “Hey, bad bike! Isn’t that a Triumph, just like in _The Wild One_?” After that it could be safely said that Sherilyn and Thorin were friends, and they stayed that way, all according to plan. In the meantime she started dating, here and there, mostly just for kicks, while suffering those times when it was obvious Thorin was seeing someone. But those relationships never seemed to last and this only gave her hope, until the middle of the summer before their senior year, when Thorin finally asked her out. “Wanna get a coke at Bob’s. We can...I don’t know...have a few laughs?” She had said yes before he had even finished asking. And sure, they had some laughs. They would sit in their booth at Bob’s and talk, or hang out with his buddies, who all thought Thorin had hit the jackpot by dating the prettiest girl in school. Everything had been going to plan, but it had all come crashing down, that night at the Overlook. She had counted on it starting with a bang, a necking session for the record books, but it hadn’t been long before she pulled away, cold and confused, wondering why she felt as if she were the only one seeing the sparkling lights of love. When she asked him what was wrong, all he could say was, “l don’t know. I’m trying, Sheri, but I’m just not feelin’ it. Must be somethin’ wrong with me.”

She had been proud of herself for not crying until she was back home, in her bedroom, with the door shut. Two years worth of hoping and dreaming, obliterated in a moment.

And there she was, sitting next to Bilbo, the boy who could make Thorin laugh, who had just admitted he knew what it felt like to be in love, and this not long after receiving a kiss on the cheek that was more convincing than any of Thorin’s kisses for her had ever been. She would’ve given anything for Thorin to have been with her the way he was with Bilbo. To look at her with that gleam in his eyes he only had whenever Bilbo was around. She would have given anything. And now, it looked like she never had a chance to begin with, all because he had been saving it up for...

“You know, Bilbie,” she leaned in, as if she were telling one of her girl friends a secret, “I’ve noticed lately, Thorin’s been wearing a ring around his neck. A gold ring.”

“You have?” Bilbo swallowed around the rock that had formed in his throat. Oh shit! This was it! Where was Thorin? Why did he have to make the decision to let Sherilyn in on their secret on his own? With his heart clobbering the inside of his rib cage, Bilbo decided he would trust in his new friend and step off that cliff.

“It was my father’s.” There. It was done.

“Oh?” Sherilyn managed a smile, as the last sparkle of a once 15 year old girl’s dream, now made utterly ridiculous, snapped and fizzled and died away. “It was your daddy’s? That’s... that’s so sweet. Do you have something, you know, that’s his?”

Bilbo opened his coat up enough to show Sheri the pin he never left home without, attached to his cardigan. “I was never a Boy Scout.”

Sherilyn looked at the small, tarnished gold pin, proof that Thorin, her once upon a time prince charming, loved the boy. Loved him enough to wear his father’s ring around his neck. Loved him enough to laugh at his jokes and spend every second he could at his side. And for a second, maybe two, she hated Bilbo. Hated him for having what she had wanted so badly. But it didn’t last. The truth was, she had come to adore him, with his pretty green eyes trapped behind tortoiseshell glasses and his trousers that were always pressed. The boy with the ready smile and perfect complexion, who could handle himself as gracefully with a bully as he could a dance partner. She quickly decided that whatever was sparking between Bilbo and Thorin was between them and none of her beeswax. She had herself a beau she loved and she was looking forward to the day when she would take his name as her own. It was high time to leave silly, childish dreams in the past where they belonged. She surprised Bilbo by kissing him on the cheek, in the same spot Thorin had bestowed a pucker earlier. 

“I’m glad, Bilbie. I’m so glad it’s you.” She said, before laying her head on his shoulder.

********

**East Colorado Boulevard, 9:30 pm.**

 

It was like something straight out of the movies. They’d been sitting at a light on Colorado Boulevard, about a mile from The Big Boy, when some characters in an open top roadster pulled up alongside. The engine revved...

**_VROOOM! VROOM!_ **

Dwalin glanced at the jokers, a couple of punks from John Muir who were notorious for street racing around town. He shook his head. “Not tonight, buddy!” He shouted out the window. He wasn’t interested in testing his tank on city streets. A speeding ticket was a one-way ticket to Palookaville for any fella with any intentions of racing legitimately, and he was planning on running his baby in a time test the next weekend.

“Chicken! Bwak! Bwak! Bwak!” The guys in the other car taunted, clucking like the pair of idiots they were and Dwalin wished like anything that he could just hit the gas and leave them in the dust. But, even if he could take on this challenger, he had a car full of people, one of which was his potential future Mrs, and there was no way he would risk losing face by getting defeated or getting in an accident.

“Hey fellas,” Sherilyn leaned over her honey bear, shouting out the window. “Maybe another time, huh?”

The goons in the other car were still whistling and hollering, “Hey baby! Why don’t you get with a real stud?” when the light finally turned green and Dwalin pulled away, hitting the speed limit before the other car ever crossed the line. The driver eventually punched the gas, careening past, its rear-end threatening to fishtail. Dwalin watched the rod disappear around a corner, his pride a little bruised but still intact.

Bilbo, from his place up front, had found the action exciting. He had kind of hoped that Dwalin would take up the challenge so he could experience, first hand, a real road race, but he also knew it would’ve been a foolish, and potentially dangerous, thing to do. So he sat back and enjoyed the rest of the ride, sharing glances with Thorin and no longer trying quite so hard to not be noticed by Sherilyn. Thorin was having a better time of it in the backseat since Bofur and Ellen had gone from hungry for one another to hungry for actual food. Back at the raceway, it’d been Dwalin’s rumbling belly that got the gang high-tailin’ it out of there and heading over to Bob’s Big Boy, a real hep joint with a knock-out scene and the thickest shakes in town. 

Pulling into the restaurant’s bustling parking lot, Dwalin zoomed into the last available space, careful not to take out any kids or car hops. Climbing out of the car, with chili fries on the brain, Bilbo looked forward to going inside and getting seated, that is, until he heard his name hollered, rising above the collective dissonance of car-radios, by a chorus of voices. He was quick to spot a whole bunch of familiar, friendly faces amongst the crowd.

“Dís! Theresa! Josh! Hey! Look, Thorin! It’s Dís!” And, without waiting for an answer from his boyfriend, Bilbo trotted over to say “hi” to his new group of friends, the gang that had helped make his homecoming experience something special.

Thorin watched Bilbo become a part of the little band of freshmen, tickled by this uptick in popularity his boy was enjoying, particularly with the females on campus, ever since showing off his moves at homecoming. And he was also glad to see his little sister out, having fun with her friends. But deep down, he felt those annoying prickles of jealousy he’d been experiencing ever since first hearing Dís go on about what a swell partner Bilbo had been at the dance. He watched her give his boy a hug that was a little too...I dunno... _full-contact_ for his liking.

“Yo! Brother! You comin’ in?” Dwalin asked, standing at the front door of the establishment. Thorin could see Sherilyn, Bofur, and Ellen had already gone in. He nodded, waving Dwalin on, “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a sec.” And without giving much thought to what he was going to do next, Thorin tromped towards his sister’s chatty little group.

Bilbo caught sight of Thorin approaching and turned towards him, excited. “Thorin! Guess what! They just got here! You know what... We should get some tables together, have a... what are you do-OOOF!” The words were knocked out of him as he found himself being picked up, hoisted over Thorin’s shoulder like a side of beef. He had to grab a hold of his glasses so as not to lose them to the ground below.

“Sorry, kiddo, but we’ve got somewhere to be. See ya later, kiddies.” And, with Bilbo’s legs held securely in place, Thorin carried him off. 

“Thorin! You big creep!” Bilbo heard Dís yell after them. He lifted his head, and from his uncomfortable and precarious position he saw her fold her arms across her chest with a huff. And she wasn’t the only one watching. It seemed like everyone they passed turned and looked. 

“Looks like Durin caught himself a fish.” Said this one fella as he leaned against his heap, making his buddies laugh. Bilbo’s cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Isn’t that Bilbo?” A girl he knew from glee asked her friend. “Looks more like Raggedy Andy, if you ask me.” The friend said, before blowing a massive gum bubble. 

“Thorin. Put me down, please.” He whispered as loud as he dared, trying not to make any more of a scene than they already were. He had initially laughed out in surprise, just as he had when Thorin picked him up at the raceway. But this had become all-together different. The kids watching now weren’t a bunch of strangers, they were classmates and fellow PHS students, people he would see at school on Monday, and the ones that weren’t witnessing this will most likely hear about it. Hear about how little Baggins got tossed up and carried around like a rag doll.

“Almost there, little man.” Thorin said, tightening his grip on Bilbo’s legs. He was enjoying this! Carrying his baby off in front of all these jokers, what did they know? All they saw were two fellas clownin’ it up. No one knew what was really goin’ on, that they were two fellas, madly in love with one another. They were fooling them all!

“I’m not your little man. Put me down. Right. Now.”

The tone Bilbo’s voice had just taken was one Thorin had heard before, but not directed at him. It was a tone he’d hoped to never hear again. Lowering Bilbo as gently as he could, he reached out to touch his shoulder, but Bilbo knocked his hand away, straightened his coat, and stomped off, only to turn right around and pull a shook Thorin down the sidewalk, away from and out of earshot of the crowd.

“Bilbs, listen I’m was just...”

“How could you?” Bilbo asked, his voice trembling with hurt and anger. The pain visible in his eyes made Thorin feel like the lowest son-of-a-bitch who ever lived. “How could you humiliate me like that in front of all those people?”

“I was just having fun. I didn’t think...”

“No, you didn’t, did you? You didn’t spend one second thinking about how I would feel... how I would look. Why did you do it? Were you jealous I was talking to your sister? That I’ve made friends who aren’t you and your friends?”

Fuck it all, that was exactly the reason, and Bilbo putting it into words like that now made Thorin feel like the stupidest son-of-a-bitch who ever lived. “Bilbo...”

“That's it, isn’t it? Jesus... Thorin... don’t do this! Please! You need to respect me as much as you claim...” Bilbo stepped closer and whispered, “claim to love me. Okay? I’m not a thing you can control, or carry around with you like a possession. I’m a human being and, I know I don’t look like one, but I’m also a man. I’m not a child. You just... you can’t. Thorin. You just can’t.”

Never before in all his life had a fella ever said anything to him that had made him want to cry. Not even when he was a kid and others would tease him about the size of his nose or his family being Jewish. He had always considered himself bulletproof, like Superman, impervious to the slings and arrows of bullies and harsh words. But standing there, on the sidewalk in front of Bob’s, watching the most precious living soul fight tears, tears that he had caused, hit him deeper than any bully’s taunt had ever gone. Sniffling, he pulled his red bandanna out of his back pocket, swiping at his nose with it while searching for words, any words, that would help mend the damage he’d done to his still-new relationship.

“I’m so sorry, Bilbo, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Seeing Thorin on the verge of tears did nothing to help keep Bilbo’s at bay, and he wiped them away before blowing his nose into his hankie. “I know...” He waged a finger at Thorin as he stuffed his hankie back in his pocket. “I think I’m getting to know you, Thorin Durin. You’re a good man. I just... You need to know how what you did made me feel.”

Thorin was looking at at the foundations of a smile on his baby’s face when a moment ago he’d been sure Bilbo was going to call the whole thing off and leave him alone and gutted on Colorado Boulevard. His heart started beating again. “I swear to you, on my life, I’ll never do it again.”

Bilbo stuck his hands, chilled by the night air, into his coat pockets, and released a heavy sigh. The whole incident had left him emotionally drained. “What? Hurt me? It’ll happen. Just like there will come a day and I’ll hurt you. But it won’t be intentionally. Never intentionally. But as long we’re honest with one another, we’ll make it through. I know we will. That’s what love is all about, I think.”

Not only was he the lowest and stupidest of sons-of-bitches, he was also the luckiest. Thorin gently tapped the toe of Bilbo’s shoe with his boot. “I love you, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo took a quick look around... 

There was no one near enough who could’ve heard. 

“I love you, too.” He gave a tug to Thorin’s sleeve, “Come on, big goof. I’m hungry.”

***

“Zog! Hey, Zog! Lookit who it is!” Bolg smacked the passenger-side window excitedly. “It’s Durin and the little fairy princess!”

Azog slowed the rust-bucket of a truck he was driving down to get a look for himself. Sure enough, his little brother was right. Thorin Durin was standing out in front of Bob’s Big Boy, and with him was that prissy little puke he and his brother had almost made hamburger out of. His Saturday night just got a whole lot more interesting.

“Kinda seems like they’re always together, don’t it?” Bolg screwed up his face. “Hey... do ya think they’re fuckin’?”

Azog’s laugh came out sounding more like an asthmatic warthog’s wheezing snort than a human laugh. “Wouldn’t that be a god-damned riot if Durin turned out to be a faggot?” He ground the gears, downshifting. “That’d be something!” His warped mind whirled as he made a right turn at the light.

“Where we goin’ Zog?” Bolg asked, since crusin’ the boulevard had been the only thing they had planned that Saturday night, besides possibly slicing the tires of any unattended cholo wagons they came across. 

“We’re goin’ to go back and see how our buddy Durin’s doin’ on his date. Wish the happy couple our best.”

“But Zog, you know we can’t do that. You got kicked out of Bob’s for good.”

“Says who? Some manager-fuck? Nah, we’re just going to have a little lookie-see, that’s all.”

“But they’ll call the cops on ya! They’ll throw you in Q with pops. You’re too old to go back to Preston.” The last thing Bolg wanted was his brother, his only known kin walking the streets free, to go back to jail.

“Shut up, you little pansy! What, you think the cops can catch us? We’ll be ten steps ahead. You’ll see.”

“All right, Zog. If you say it...”

“Fuck right, I say it.”

Azog pulled into the back-end of the lot, parking by the dumpsters, away from any lights or people. He couldn’t wait to see the look on Durin’s face when he made himself known.

***

“Sugar pops! Here!” Patting the seat next to her, Sherilyn nudged Dwalin to scooch over. “Sit next to me!” The gang was already sitting in a booth, pouring over menus, when Thorin and Bilbo came in from out of the cold. Bilbo sat down next to Sheri, his stomach growling, and . perused the restaurant’s offerings while sharing glances with Thorin, who was sitting across the table from him. It wasn’t long before the waitress appeared to take their orders; a round of Big Boy burgers, milk shakes, and a couple orders of fries, smothered in chili.

The joint was jumpin’ sky-high! Bilbo had never been in a restaurant where the number of people under 18 far-out distanced the number over. Ellen explained that it was understood by everyone in Pasadena, that after six o’clock on Saturdays, the Big Boy belonged to the teenagers. Kids were everywhere! They filled every booth, were lined up at the counter, and danced in front of the juke box. A number of them, mostly girl friends of Ellen’s, came by the table to say “hi” and most of them made sure to tell Bilbo they saw him at the dance and, “well, you sure are a swell dancer. Where did you learn moves like that?” That he had learned them just by watching Bandstand was almost too much! Then, with a “Toodle-oo! See you at school!”, a swishing of petticoats, and batting of eyelashes, they were gone.

The food showed up and everyone dug in. The chili fries were everything Bilbo had been dreaming of and he enjoyed sitting and eating and listening to his friends talk about this and that and everything else, but mostly about the best of what they’d seen at the track. Well, Thorin and Dwalin did, at least.

_♫Where are you, little star?  
(Where are you?)♫_

“Oh, Dwalie! It’s our song!” Sheri squealed as the Elegants came crooning out of the jukebox. “Come dance with me, lover.”

Dwalin stopped talking, mid-sentence, an adoring smile on his face. “Yeah, kitten, you bet.” Bilbo got out of the way, quick, to let them out of the booth. A beat later, Thorin was doing the same for Ellen and Bofur, which left the boys alone at the table, looking at one another, feeling like they were in a bubble built for two while the rest of the world happened around them. 

“Thank you.” Bilbo said, surprising Thorin. The last thing he had expected to hear come from Bilbo was gratitude.

“What for?” 

“For bringing me into your circle of friends. I never thought I’d get to be a part of...” He looked around the bustling restaurant, that center of teen life, “All of this. I love being with them. Almost as much as I love being with you.”

Thorin snorted, shaking his head, “Even when I’m being an asshole.”

Bilbo laughed, while under the table his foot found Thorin’s. “Yes. Even then. I...”

“Hey! Durin! Buddy! I knew I’d find you here!” It was Nori, looking squinty and red-eyed, with a stupid, lazy grin on his face. “And look! You even brought your li’l billy-goat with ya! Hey, there, Billy! Whaddaya know?”

“For crissakes, Nori...” Thorin said as he reluctantly slid over to make room on the seat. “Where the hell have you been? We were expecting to see you at the track.”

“Oh...uh...I got a little hung up...as the phrase goes. You eating these?” Nori started digging into the leftover chili fries before anyone got a chance to respond.

Smelling something pungent that hadn’t been there before, Thorin leaned over and sniffed Nori. He smelled as if he’d gotten into a fight with an ornery skunk. “Man, you stink. What trash heap did you climb out of?”

Nori’s idiot grin was back. He pulled a plastic sandwich bag, filled with what looked like some kind of green herb, out of his jacket pocket. “Nothing but the sweetest Mexican Maryjane, my friend.”

Genuinely shocked by Nori’s brazen foolishness, Thorin pushed his hand back in his pocket. “What in hell are you doin’? Don’t pull that stuff out here!”

“You have marijuana?” Bilbo whispered, leaning across the table. He was curious about the drug since it was often associated with jazz musicians and beat writers, what Jack Kerouac referred to as “tea” in On the Road. He had read about its supposed ability to alter one’s perception of reality and was terribly curious if any of that talk was true. 

“You bet I do, Billy boy! And I know where I can score you some grade-A, south-of-the-border grass, for reasonable prices...”

“For fuck’s sake, Nori, shut up will ya? No one wants...” Thorin stopped. The burning light of curiosity was in his baby’s eyes. It had never occurred to him that Bilbo would be interested in something like drugs, and his instincts told him he needed to protect him from them. But as Bilbo had reminded him earlier, he wasn’t a child and didn’t wish to be treated as one. Besides, their being steadies was all but illegal, wasn’t it? Just by being in love, they were almost breaking the law. “Maybe some other time, pal.” He said, quietly. His eyes met Bilbo’s which seemed be saying, “Thank you”. This was definitely going to need a conversation later.

“Nori! You sombitch! We been looking for you everywhere!” Two fellas, both of whom Thorin recognized from the upstairs hallway at the Halloween party, walked up to the table. Nori jumped to his feet. 

“As the saying goes, If I’m not at Bob’s then I’m Nowheresville, my compadres! Tom... Slick... meet my brothers Thorin and li’l Billy. Fellas, these fine gentlemen and I have some, uh, business to transact. I will therefore be catching you on the laters!” And off he went with the two guys to transact... hell only knew what, though both Thorin and Bilbo had a pretty good idea. Bilbo laughed.

“I think it’s kind of a miracle he hasn’t been to prison yet.”

“I second that, kiddo,” Thorin watched Nori and I’ve known him a hell of a lot longer than you have. So... are you... “ Thorin looked for the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. “Do you _want_ to smoke grass?”

Bilbo shrugged, tearing apart the remnants of his hamburger bun. “I don’t know. I keep reading about it. Some writers smoke it...artists...musicians. It’s kind of the thing to do if you’re hip to the scene, if you can dig it.” He chuckled. “I think I’d like to at least try it once, you know? Just to see what it’s all about.”

“I can dig it.” Thorin nodded. “I’ve been a little curious myself, I suppose. Maybe we’ll do that, huh? I’ll talk to Nori. I hear it’s not cheap.”

“That’s ok. I’ve got money.”

“Yeah, I know, baby.” Thorin chuckled. “I know.”

***

“Hey, Zog, are we just going to sit here all night or are we gonna go in? I’m gettin’ real cold.” Bolg blew on his hands and rubbed them together, trying to keep them warm, before shoving them into the pockets of the thin jacket that, 9 months out of the year, was all he needed. Azog was in the same boat. Neither boy had owned a decent coat since they’d had grandparents alive enough to give a shit about them.

Shoving his hand in his pocket only reminded him that a fresh pack of cigarettes hadn’t magically appeared. _Well, asshole, whatcha gonna do now?_ He asked himself. He’d been slinking around the crowded restaurant, looking in the windows, watching for and spotting Durin and his gang sitting in a booth, as if he were stalking up on a misbehaving girlfriend, not that he’d ever had one of those. If he and his brother waited outside any longer, they were sure to get harassed by the pigs for loitering or some such b.s.. 

“Come on,” He slapped his brother on the arm before setting his feet in the direction of the front door. Bolg followed, worried about getting thrown out and having the cops called on them, but even more afraid of questioning his brother’s decisions.

The interior of Bob’s was warm. Warm, and it smelled good, reminding Bolg of just how hungry he was. If only his brother would give up his obsession with ruining Durin’s life, they could leave, taking their last two bits to grab a bag of burgers from McDonald’s. But instead, he followed his brother, weaving in and around groups of kids, as they made their way towards the booth where Thorin sat.

***

Bilbo was smiling, happy, sitting in a booth at Bob’s Big Boy with the boy he loved, when he saw the beast moving towards him. White blonde hair, ice blue eyes, a leer on his face that only hinted at the hate in his heart...it was Azog Gundabad, his personal boogeyman sketched out in flesh and bone. His heart froze in his chest as he watched Azog move through the crowd, coming closer...closer.

“Thorin!” He had meant to yell, but only managed a choked whisper, “Look! It’s...”

His face had gone white as a sheet.

Thorin was on his feet in an instance, his instinct for danger finely tuned to the sound of fear in a loved one’s voice. He moved so as to block Bilbo from Gundabad’s sight. What the hell was he doing there? And with his brother, no less! He flashed a glance to where Dwalin was dancing with Sherilyn, oblivious to the trouble that was in their midst. Thankfully he was wearing his jacket, his switch tucked, ready and waiting, in the lining. He would protect Bilbo, no matter what.

“YOU! HEY! YOU CAN”T BE IN HERE!” 

It was the manager, the man who made sure the peace was kept and Bob’s remained a respectable place where decent people could meet and have a good time. It’d been a few weeks since the incident that had gotten the Gundabad brothers kicked out and banned for life; a girl had been groped, a fight had ensued. And now the cretins had the audacity to walk back in. Well, he was not going to overlook this trespasser! He called out to Ann, his top waitress, to telephone the cops. The three fellas working the kitchen came out to see what the trouble was and back-up their boss.

Everyone in the place stopped and watched the excitement. Dwalin was quick to take his place at Thorin’s side, Sherilyn left back by the jukebox with Bofur and Ellen, as far from the center of danger as possible. Bilbo kneeled on the seat behind Thorin, looking around him, wishing he could wrap his arms around his waist and hold on to him like an impenetrable shield. He hated being as upset by the brothers as he was, but he wasn’t above appreciating a boyfriend who could stand-up to them, face-to-face and fearless.

“Aww..come on, pal! Have a heart!” Azog tried to pull an innocent face, his hands raised in supplication. “I’m just here to see my good friend, over there.” His eyes locked on Thorin’s, who returned a steely gaze that said he would not be the first to back down, no matter where they were, or how many people were watching. An ugly, broken-toothed grin spread across Azog’s face. A fight was coming. He didn’t know when or where, but one of these days... He and Durin...

To the end.

“The police are on their way!” Ann informed her manager as she hung up the phone,

“All right...all right!” Azog backed up, his hands raised. “No need to get rough, buddy. We’re goin’. Gonna take our business somewhere else, aint we, Bolg? Come on, let’s blow!” And with that the brothers skulked towards the door, but not before Azog pointed at the little blonde four-eyes hiding behind Durin. “I see you, princess!” He called out, the malicious grin on his face nearly making Bilbo sick to his stomach. Thorin stood, rock still and silent, as he watched the brothers leave, then out the windows he watched to see a busted-up wreck of a truck come tearing through the parking lot and drive away, down Colorado boulevard.

Bilbo breathed a shaky sigh of relief as he grabbed his water glass, gulping the cool liquid down to help keep from losing his dinner. He had hoped that he’d seen enough of the Gundabads for a life-time, but that, apparently was too much to ask.

“I’m glad that’s over. For a moment I was afraid it was going to come to blows.” He said, looking up at Thorin who was much too on edge to sit. 

“It wouldn’t’ve come to blows.” Thorin looked down into Bilbo’s face, flushed with concern, but smiling with relief. That sweet, precious, beautiful face he’d do anything for.

That he’d die for.

“I suppose you’d talk it out, huh?” Bilbo said, trying to calm his nerves with mindless chatter. “Man-to-man. A nice, civil, conversa...”

“Stick your hand in my pocket.” Thorin turned so that his left-hand pocket was directly in front of Bilbo who reached in, encountering a half empty pack of Lucky Strikes. 

“You know, after that little incident, I think I am ready to try a cigarette.” Bilbo pulled his hand out, but Thorin shook his head.

“No. All the way in.”

Furrowing his brow, beginning to worry about what exactly he was supposed to be finding, he slid his hand back in the pocket, past the smokes, to a hole in the lining. Just on the other side, his fingertips encountered something cold...metal...

He yanked his hand out as if he’d been burned by the switchblade Thorin carried with him. He could only shake his head and mouth, “No.”

Thorin leaned forward, one hand on the back of the seat, the other on the table, his face level with and only inches from Bilbo’s. “I will do what I have to, if it means keeping you safe.” If only he could touch his face, caress his cheek, and make him forget everything that had just happened!

Bilbo gripped Thorin’s leather-clad arm. “It never has to come to that. I know I once joked about you shedding blood for me, but... Tell me it’ll never come to that. Ever.”

Thorin straightened up, laying his hand over Bilbo’s and holding on for a second. “Only if it has to, and that’s all up to the other guy.” 

“It’s no use arguing, Bilbo.” Dwalin interjected as he wrapped an arm around Thorin’s shoulders. “I’d do the same for Sherilyn. We protect what’s ours, anyway we can. Don’t we brother?”

Thorin nodded, a smile curled up in the corner of his mouth. “That’s the plan.”

Suddenly, Bilbo was tired. Very tired. He wanted to be home in his bedroom, in his pajamas, under the covers, Lassie-girl at the foot of his bed, keeping watch while he slept. Now, if he could have, in addition, six foot three worth of strong, fearless, loving man laying next to him, holding him close long into the night...he’d be the happiest fella on earth! 

He nodded, understanding and accepting these rules and rituals that went along with those deep bonds of the heart, all in the name of love, loyalty, and honor. He smiled up at Thorin. “You know... it goes both ways. I get to protect what’s mine as well.” He raised his hand to cover a yawn he couldn’t hold back.

Thorin gently tapped the round tip of Bilbo’s nose with his finger. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, kiddo. Come on, let’s get you home.”

********

Bilbo’s fingers found Thorin’s, resting on the backseat of Dwalin’s car, and they curled around them, holding on tight for most of the ride up the hill to Acorn Lane. The boys had the back all to themselves since Ellen had gotten her and Bofur a ride to the overlook with her friend Martha in Martha’s boyfriend George’s ‘48 Studebaker. The boys held hands, not saying much, both of them wishing they could be making out or, at the very least, getting some cuddle-time.

As they pulled up in front of the house, Bilbo gave Thorin’s hand a squeeze before letting go. 

“Thank you, Dwalin, for driving. I had a really great time, spending it with all of you.”

“Hey, kid, it was nothing! You’re a member of the gang, now, you know that. You’re always welcome. And don’t you worry about those bullies. They won’t hurt ya. They gotta get through us, first.”

Sherilyn opened the passenger side door and hopped out to let Bilbo out of the backseat. She gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek and told him to dream sweet dreams before looking back inside the car at Thorin, who was torn about how to handle his baby’s leaving. Sheri decided to handle it for him.

“Aren’t you going to walk your sugar pops to the door?” She asked, leaving Thorin speechless. She knew? How long had she known? 

“I’d do what the little lady says, brother.” Dwalin drawled from behind the steering wheel. 

Thorin slid out of the backseat, not knowing what he should say to Sherilyn, now that she knew this thing about him and Bilbo, but she smiled and patted him on the chest, their first physical contact since their last date. “We can talk about this later. Now, go kiss your little boy goodnight.”

Thorin followed Bilbo up to the front gate. “How does she know?” 

“She asked.” Bilbo said, unlocking the gate and stepping through. “You weren’t there, so I took the chance and told her.”

“And she was ok with it?” Thorin followed Bilbo in to the garden, the gate clanking shut behind them. 

“Not at first, I don’t think. Not really. But then she was, more-or-less. I don’t know. She’s a real swell gal. Dwalin’s a lucky fella.” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand, lacing their fingers together. “Not as lucky as me, though.”

Together they walked, hand-in-hand, through the front garden and up to the green front door. And before Thorin knew what hit him, Bilbo had turned and was up on his toes, his hand clasped around the back of Thorin’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. His mouth was already open and ready and when their lips touched, Thorin received a searching tongue, desperate to meet with his own. He answered, wrapping his arms around Bilbo and backing him up against the door. They kissed as if kisses were oxygen and their only line to remaining alive. Lips were caught between teeth and moans were drawn from way down deep.

“Oh, baby, “ Thorin sighed against the tender skin of Bilbo’s neck, his whiskers delightfully ticklish. “I want to touch you so bad.”

“Then touch me.” Bilbo took Thorin’s hand and guided him down, laying it on the swelling in his jeans. Thorin gasped. He was touching Bilbo's erection and it took his breath away. “Wow. You're somethin', baby.” He said, not able to think beyond what his senses were describing to him; a hard cock on a beautiful boy and he LOVED it!

“That’s all for you, Thorin.” Bilbo laid his head back on the door, trying to comprehend just how glorious what he was experiencing was, especially now that Thorin was gently pressing and massaging. “Your hand feels so good on me. If there weren’t people waiting for you, I’d take you upstairs to my room right now.”

“Wouldn’t granny get mad, you bringin’ home a boy?”

Bilbo chuckled a moan, “Mmmm...probably. It’d be so worth it.” He licked his lips only a moment before Thorin claimed them.

“Soon, baby.” Thorin kissed his words along Bilbo’s jaw. “I can’t wait much longer.”

“Neither can I...” Wrapping his hand around Thorin’s wrist, Bilbo stilled his hand before pulling it away. “I’m too close, sweetheart. I don’t want to come here.” But then his own hand was being pressed against a warm, denim-covered mound, rock-hard and enormous. He squeezed and Thorin threw his head back, eliciting the most delicious groan Bilbo had ever heard. 

Thorin let Bilbo continue for a handful of seconds before he made him stop. “I gotta go, or I’ll be dragging you upstairs myself. Oh baby,” He kissed Bilbo on the mouth. And again. “I want you so bad it hurts.”

Bilbo nodded, a couple tears of pure happiness coming unannounced and tumbling down his cheeks. “I want you Thorin.”

“Soon. Hey,” He wiped the water away with his thumb and then sucked it off, Bilbo’s salty tears on the tip of his tongue. “No waterworks, huh? I love you, Bilbo, and I’m gonna make love to you and we’ll never forget it for as long as we live. Ok?”

“Yes!” Bilbo’s smile was beatific. “Please, yes!”

“All right. I gotta go, baby love, but I’ll call you, tomorrow, ok? Ahhh...” Thorin went in for one more kiss. And one more, no, make that two more, after that. “I’ll never get enough.”

“You should go.” Bilbo reluctantly pushed against Thorin’s chest. “Don’t keep Dwalin and Sheri waiting. Sleep well, my love.” He unlocked the door and stepped in, but waited and watched Thorin leave until he heard the gate open and clang shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Credits:  
> [ **Dragstrip Baby**](https://youtu.be/sQFX3-AaD10)1958  
>  Written and Performed by: Johnny Roane 
> 
> [**Little Star**](https://youtu.be/l8F4vdF-bJc)1958  
>  Written by: Vito Picone and Arthur Venosa, Performed by: The Elegants
> 
> Carl Perkins is playing through the cruddy speakers in Dwalin’s car. He is up there with Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry as one of the original rock-n-roll greats. In 1958 he released the album, [**Whole Lotta Shakin’**](https://youtu.be/AZLlrhnfGGw). It is solid GONESVILLE, dad!
> 
> Buddy Rich was one of the greatest drummers of the twentieth century. [Here he is](https://youtu.be/2-8gyA9Tyds) performing a solo on television in 1958. Poor Bilbo’s heart is getting a workout if it’s keeping those kind of beats.
> 
> Bilbo imagines himself in one of those movies made for teens, featuring Alan Freed & a number of popular musical acts, like [**Rock, Rock, Rock (1957)**](https://youtu.be/t1GmNhxnEck). Alan Freed was a disc jockey who is credited with coining the term “rock and roll” and promoting African-American artists on his radio show along with white artists. This was really important at the time because music was highly segregated. White parents were being warned not to let their children listen to what was then called “race records” (as well as some other, more offensive terms). One of the main reasons why Elvis was such a sensation when he hit the scene was due to his being a white man who had the delivery and energy similar to that of black artists. Anyway, it was while Freed was a d.j. in Cleveland, Ohio that he first started playing and promoting rock and roll, as well as putting on dances and concerts for local kids, which is why the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is in Cleveland and not somewhere like New York or Los Angeles. 
> 
> Bob’s Big Boy...one of the most iconic 1950s images there is. The restaurant chain started in Southern California (where all good things do *wink*), but spread nationwide. Unfortunately, the chain had to scale back in the 2000’s, & now there are only a handful left, all of them in So Cal, including the one in Burbank, which is the oldest operating Big Boy. Built in 1949, it is also one of the earliest examples of Googie Architecture, a style associated primarily with mid-century coffee shops, & is a designated California Point of Historical Interest. Back in the late sixties, the chain’s expansion included Hawaii and Alaska & I have vivid memories of visiting the Bob’s on Oahu. To this day, I love few things more than a coffee shop with some history behind it. 
> 
> There really is no way to overemphasize just how important hot rodding was to mid-century teen culture. Pretty much since the advent of the mass-produced automobile, kids have been taking them apart & putting them back together, all in the name of speed. Hot-rodding was huge in the 1930s, but exploded after WWII, when fellas who’d been working on aircraft & tank engines overseas came home, applying their new skills to automobiles. In 1950 the first drag strips were built primarily as a way to keep kids from racing on city streets. Oftentimes a condition for being allowed to race was not having any speeding tickets on your record. Auto accident fatalities were a serious problem. The film [**Hot Rod Girl (1956)**](https://youtu.be/thDnjetQRyY) deals specifically with the trouble of kids getting hurt while street racing & a concerned police officer trying to get a drag strip built. One of the best things I’ve come across while doing research for this fic are the books of Henry Gregor Felsen. Stephen King named him as one of his top four most influential writers &, after reading the first two; Hot Rod (1950) and Street Rod (1953), it’s not hard to see the influence Felsen has had on Mr. King’s writing. The books are essentially safe-driving PSAs posing as teen novels, but they’re really great if you’re interested in the era, particularly a boy’s relationship with his car. Felsen was an adult, writing about teens, but he spent a lot of time talking to hot rodding kids, and he was a rodder himself. I highly recommend them! 
> 
> El Mirage is a dry lakebed in the California desert, about 2 and a half hours northeast of Pasadena. Folks have been trying to bust land-speed records there since the thirties. With almost unlimited, flat space, this is where speeds too serious for the track can be reached. The current land-speed record is 763 mph, set back in 1997 in the Black Rock Desert, Nevada.
> 
> A million ‘thank you!’s to everyone who’s still sticking with this fic and I appreciate every kudo and comment and I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season!


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